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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123114">The Journey</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ripplite/pseuds/Ripplite'>Ripplite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Stinger [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hollow Knight (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguity, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Existential Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light-Hearted, No Beta, Post-Dream No More Ending (Hollow Knight), Retrospective, Self-Discovery, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:07:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>79,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ripplite/pseuds/Ripplite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Surviving after the end was never the plan for the Hollow Knight. At the behest of a Higher Being that they have never known, they find themselves, still alive, in the midst of a ruined Kingdom alongside the Ghost of Hallownest. What would await them?</p><p>---</p><p>Centric to the Hollow Knight.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel &amp; Hornet, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel &amp; Hornet &amp; The Knight, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel &amp; The Knight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Stinger [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2216892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>196</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Bold is the Knight, and Italics is our Pure Vessel.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It happened in a flash.</p><p>The Hollow Knight took no offense to her bristling at them, as if they were an enemy.</p><p>If permitted to think of days bygone, they recalled that she did something similar when they first met in the Queen’s Gardens, all that time ago. The color of the Pale Gift’s dress always stood out to them with that vibrant red; it was a splash of color compared to the palace’s palettes of monotonous white, greys, and silvers, and it still stood out in the darkness of Deepnest.</p><p>But the Pale Gift was much bigger than they remembered.</p><p>She used to frolic in the halls, to the detriment and horror of all the retainers. When Herrah was not there, the Gendered Child was incorrigible.</p><p>In a way, she still was, but she had traded her grubfat to for a certain grace befitting a princess.</p><p>As they stared at her, the realization must have dawned on her then.</p><p>… Or perhaps it was the little ghost’s shade batting at her that did the trick.</p><p>They were incoherently shrieking in the background, as the Hollow Knight held the Pale Gift’s gaze. The former was the first to do something. Due to them both being of void, the Sibling tugged the nightmare creature back harmlessly—Though this deterred them none. The Lord of Shades continued to fuss despite being held back by the scruff, reaching their now distinctive hands at the Pale Gift.</p><p>Understandably; the Pale Gift was in apparent possession of the little ghost’s broken-in-twain mask. It was being held together with silk, deposited in the nook of her arm.</p><p>The little ghost continued to bluster at her in silent demand, with gentle care not to <em>actually</em> come into direct contact with her. There was a wordy protest that she could not hear, but she did not need to hear the little Ghost’s fussing to understand.</p><p>She lowered her needle, and looked away guiltily.</p><p>“Do forgive me.” The Gendered Child spoke, once she realized her misstep. “I did not think to hope that you both lived.”</p><p>It was a fair assumption on her part.</p><p>The Pale Gift could not have known for a number of reasons.</p><p>In fact, they knew better and were entirely convinced that they would not live, either.</p><p>Their return was inexplicable and they could not begin to recount the tale, even if they had wanted to. However factual they could be, it did not make sense, and they could not comprehend it.</p><p>But they knew it to be true.</p><p>They would not be alive, otherwise.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When the Ghost of Hallownest vanished into the Dream, their sibling had collapsed with her needle plunged into their mask. With no one watching, they grasped their resolve themselves to fulfill their final duty as the Hollow Knight. They had shattered their already crumbling shell, in order to join their wayward sibling— with the intent to keep the Old Light within their dying dream if nothing else.</p><p>Then prisoner, now jailor.</p><p>Once a Pure Vessel, no longer even the Hollow Knight—</p><p>When the Lord of Shades had cast away their own shell, it was a given that neither them expected to survive the convergence of void. Rather, they threw away their individuality, and joined the ocean of souls that swallowed the Old Light whole. Together, they dragged her into the Abyss within the prison of their father’s make.</p><p>It was a secret they were supposed to die with.</p><p>That at the bottom of the Abyss, there was an egg that the Old Light could never hatch from. It was squirreled away in the depths of the Void Sea, that none could result hope to reach.</p><p>But by whom?</p><p>By <em>them?</em></p><p>Nay, they were only a part of the greater whole.</p><p>There was a great being, they recalled.</p><p>A being that resembled a Shade, but one that could not begin to fathom, with sinuous horns, four arms, and eight glowing eyes, and an endless number of tendrils. It was a conglomerate of many.</p><p>All and One, Everything and Nothing. The Abyss itself, and them.</p><p>They knew the call of the Void well.</p><p>It was a part of them, and they had answered it thus.</p><p>Both them and It.</p><p>It, at the Ghost of Hallownest’s rallying, was the Entity that dragged the Old Light to her final resting place. The God of Gods, was a title that came to mind, not that this force of nature cared for reverence or worship of any kind.</p><p>But that was not the Lord of Shades.</p><p>The Lord of Shades united the Abyss for its purpose, now fulfilled.</p><p>If the Lord of Shades was an avatar and harbinger due to the Void Heart, then perhaps the Void Entity was its ultimate form.</p><p>But it was not the Knight.</p><p>So, what was it doing?</p><p>It was staring at them.</p><p>It held their Shade in its palms as it gazed and examined their state of undeath— as if waiting for something to happen.</p><p>An eternity could have taken place, and they would not have known it.</p><p>They stared back, not knowing what was to happen.</p><p>And it moved; it lumbered. In this expanse of nothing, it opened one of its palms to reveal the fragments of the mask that the Hollow Knight had cast away. Though in pieces, the porcelain white shell glittered like stardust in that vast emptiness.</p><p>Had It collected it? If so, for what purpose?</p><p>The mask was merely held to them.</p><p>This God of Gods was posing them a question.</p><p>A silent, heavy expectation that offered no words—just a broken mask.</p><p>One that sang of the tragedy that was their life, having barely lived it. It was a perfect fit of tragedy and retrospective irony. As a Pure Vessel, they spared nothing for anyone. They only did enough, and never more. They acted selfishly for the sake of another, but with enough selflessness only to hurt no one but themselves.</p><p>Though a shade with no shell, they floated over on their own accord, and stared at their own face.</p><p>When was the last time they saw themselves in any regard? Mirrors were a rarity as it were, and there was no such thing in their confinement.</p><p>They recalled themselves first seeing their reflection against their egg, when they were born.</p><p>But that childish mask had been long outgrown, traded for horns of esteemed height, an extra prong, and a life of suffering. With this, they’d been shackled to a fate that was a burden that they were unfit to carry but could never set down. It was stained in melancholy, regret, but also their pride and joy.</p><p>Melancholy for having played the part so well.</p><p>Regret for having let their sibling fall, at that time.</p><p>Pride for having fulfilled their duty.</p><p>Joy for being chosen by their father.</p><p>It had taken them a long time, but ultimately coming back for their errant sibling gave them a sense of accomplishment.</p><p>All of these things were present on this mask.</p><p>Their mask that gave nothing away, alone, spoke to them in so many ways.</p><p>There was no ignoring the grief that had happened in their arduous life. They could have lingered on those thoughts, but they had a lifetime of doing so already. </p><p>What was new was the cracks that formed, as a result of their infection. There was a clear part where it was pried open, due to the Pale Gift’s attack and their own approach to the matter. They ran their hand over their mask, with some kind of emotion that they themselves, could not identify.</p><p>This was their face.</p><p>Though the shards were the purest white, there were etched groves speaking of the myriad of color they possessed in their life. The sights that only they would know, like the White Lady singing them a lullaby they were not supposed to know or understand in her hidden away nursery, or the fact their father, despite his emotional distance, continued to keep them physically at his side. </p><p>Were they ever empty?</p><p>Maybe not.</p><p>They accepted this.</p><p>What a sorry end to the tale of the Hollow Knight; a justly deserved thing it was, befitting one who only seized their life at the very end of it all, and threw it away.</p><p>Before them, the God of Gods awaited.</p><p>Like an actor upon their final stage, the Hollow Knight closed their eyes, and bowed.</p><p>In response, the Void Entity’s eyes wrinkled in facsimile of a smile. There was an echo of mirth, as a crash of shadows washed over them.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They had not expected to wake again, to say in the least.</p><p>The Lord of Shades had been with them at the Void Sea, surrounded by a cooing multitude of siblings, and their glowing eyeholes. They were apologetic. They did not think they would make it. They had done what they could, but the Hollow Knight’s arm was gone for good.</p><p>However, that was of little consequence.</p><p>That wasn’t their fault.</p><p>Once the Siblings were consoled and pacified, they went to rest- their forms curling into little orbs of void, as they sank into the Abyss. All that was left was the maskless Lord of Shades and themselves.</p><p>The Hollow Knight’s mask had not split apart like they thought it had, but could not have been true. They had held that broken thing in their hands as a Shade, so how could this be?</p><p>Unless—</p><p>Impossible.</p><p>Had that Thing really brought their mask all the way here to the Abyss, but it did not think to bring its own Harbinger’s mask?</p><p>Was the Lord of Shades aware of this?</p><p>Did they know where their mask was?</p><p>They shook their head, and conveyed through their void-hearted bond.</p><p>
  <strong>No. But I did not to want to leave Sibling alone.</strong>
</p><p>They would make the Hollow Knight a priority?</p><p>What for?</p><p>Rather than reach out to them through that shared void, a tilt of their head was all they could manage.</p><p>
  <strong>I did not want Sibling to leave me behind.</strong>
</p><p>They stared hard. They would not be able to begin to make up for this debt if their smallest Sibling continued to do things like this, but expressing that would be unfitting of them.</p><p>So at the shore of void, the silence between the two was palpable. It was a first meeting long overdue, and neither ghost or Knight knew what to do or say.</p><p>But there was time for that.</p><p>Right now, they were trying to process what had happened, exactly. </p><p>That, and stare at the sea.</p><p>As they sat together and watched the void sea for a time, the Lord of Shades intermittently attempted to reach out to them through void tendrils. They rejected it each time, not seeing a purpose, or understanding why the little ghost was wanting. This happened many times, before the ghost petulantly curled into a ball, and sulked when they did not reciprocate. But when they felt a shift in the stagnant air, and they peeked their soulful eyes at their biggest Sibling.</p><p>The once-Pure Vessel and no-longer-Hollow Knight, was holding their hand out to them patiently.</p><p>They took it.</p><p>It dawned on the Hollow Knight then, that the God of Gods likely had done this on purpose to sate the Ghost of Hallownest’s desire, but to also teach them a lesson of some kind.</p><p>While they couldn’t claim to know the inner processes of Higher Beings despite being acquainted with others through the course of their existence, the irony of this situation was not lost on them; that their mask would be returned to an undeserving, half-dead failure, while the Smotherer of Light, the Lord of Shades themselves, would be forced to rely on them to regain their mask.</p><p>Perhaps It only did this for its own amusement.</p><p>Maybe there was a lesson somewhere, but they wouldn’t know it. Perhaps it was forcing a lesson upon <em>them</em>, too.</p><p>Only It would know that, because apparently the little ghost had no recollection of the event— and they chose not to explain, which led to them the events of the here and now.</p><p>The Black Egg Temple was far from the Abyss, and the climb was both hellish and taxing to an already weakened bug. How they had made this climb as an infant, they wouldn’t have known. But once the Abyss doors opened, after much discourse, it was decided that they would go to the Mask Maker in Deepnest instead, by simply just going in that direction while the Lord of Shades protested.</p><p>It was a one-sided, non-verbal argument.</p><p>There was no guarantee that their mask would still be at the temple, if their Shade was this far removed from it already. They would just take the Tram from the Ancient Basin. It was obvious.</p><p>The Shade Lord threw a miniature, silent tantrum that involved an attempt at making themselves as big as possible. Needless to say, after having a private audience with the God of Gods, the Hollow Knight was not intimidated.</p><p>It did not work.</p><p>The now-literal Ghost of Hallownest mourned, however. They were lamenting.</p><p>They didn't want a new face.</p><p>They liked their face, did their Sibling not feel the same way about their own?</p><p>That, the Hollow Knight could not answer.</p><p>But thankfully, on their way to the Mask Maker, they had encountered the Pale Gift— who likely had a similar thought process as them. She was right in a lot of respects, to be immediately aggravated at the sight of an intruder and a Shade that was stranger than any respectable sibling. Discounting themselves.</p><p>There was a chance the Gendered Child would ask how this happened; how they had disappeared from the temple with no trace of a mask. How they were even alive, at all.</p><p>And on the presumption that they were to answer, that meant also divulging to the Lord of Shades that they were, in fact, that they were potentially being manipulated by an even higher being.</p><p>So of course; they had no intention of ever telling this to either the Ghost of Hallownest or the Pale Gift, lest they go on a second crusade against the Abyss that had aided them.</p><p>The Hollow Knight themselves had made their peace then when they threw their mask away, and they had no intention of regaling their siblings with a tale of death. Of how they looked into the Void, it stared right back at them, and gave them back their individuality instead of consuming them with its embrace. Supposing that there was rebirth in this tale, perhaps, that alone would make that encounter with the Divine worth telling.</p><p>But it was still a moot point.</p><p>How could they tell it?</p><p>No voice to cry suffering.</p><p>Rather, no voice to speak of the smug God of Gods that they could have sworn had taunted them, and decreed wordlessly before they were sent away the following message:</p><p>
  <strong> <em>No one will ever believe you.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Or was that their own voice speaking to them?</p><p>How odd, indeed.</p><p>They weren’t supposed to have a voice.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hollow Knight.”</p><p>The use of their misjudged title lulled them back to reality.</p><p>The Lord of Shades had ceased their tirade, and was watching with their soulful, all-consuming eyes. While they were staring into space, it seemed, the Pale Gift had reprimanded the little ghost for staining her cloak. She was also right to do it. Void stains were permanent, and they knew that from experience.</p><p>But enough of that.</p><p>The Hollow Knight peered at their red-garbed sibling, the Gendered Child and Pale Gift of Deepnest.</p><p>It was highly probable she had questions. It was well-warranted, even if they were not capable of giving answers.</p><p>So thus, the Pale Gift met their gaze with the faintest touch of fluster. The only thing that would have been missing from this picture was Herrah’s presence, but the Pale Gift bore a great resemblance to her, now that her horns had become stately.</p><p>Proud, noble, nimble, with a hidden strength befitting a beast.</p><p>“My name is Hornet.” She spoke, her cloak fluttering. Her voice was lit with a certain woe, as she canted her head. Though older, in many ways, she was still much like a child in their eyes. “I am thankful we would have a chance to meet again, even if you should not remember me. … Would you remember me, Hollow Knight?”</p><p>They knelt down to her.</p><p>How could they ever forget?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They both sat in the Egg Chamber of the Mask Maker—the little ghost comfortable on the lap of their Sibling, and the Hollow Knight cramped and hunched over as to not scrap the ceiling with their horns, lest their mask break faster.</p><p>---</p><p>Independence is a fickle thing. Of which our Pure Vessel interacts with the Knight and the Mask Maker at their own choosing.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bold is the Knight, and Italics is our Pure Vessel.</p><p>I'm sorry if the Mask Maker is hard to understand. I have a specific voice in mind whenever I read his dialogue, and I hope that was conveyed well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>I hope we can see Hornet again once she’s finished speaking to Midwife and the devout. </strong>
</p><p>Guaranteed.</p><p>
  <strong>I hope they don’t attack us if we decide to visit her there. But maybe that’s why she said I had to get a new mask, first.</strong>
</p><p>Highly probable.</p><p>
  <strong>Maybe she’s taking time to think of her mother again.</strong>
</p><p>Also probable.</p><p>
  <strong>She said she didn’t blame me for breaking the seal, but…</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Did you know Herrah?</strong>
</p><p>A memory came to them. They knew her and interacted with her on multiple occasions. Those memories were caught in a spiderweb of things, as they found themselves thinking about the color of her wimple, as they last saw her.</p><p>It was a shade of blue.</p><p>
  <strong>Are you listening to me?</strong>
</p><p>They didn’t answer.</p><p>
  <strong>I know you can hear me.</strong>
</p><p>Persistent.</p><p>
  <strong>I know you aren’t empty, too.</strong>
</p><p>Such was the Ghost of Hallownest’s bold assertion, unmatched by their small form.</p><p>They both sat in the Egg Chamber of the Mask Maker—the little ghost comfortable on the lap of their Sibling, and the Hollow Knight cramped and hunched over as to not scrap the ceiling with their horns, lest their mask break faster.</p><p>The Mask Maker did not repair the little ghost’s mask, but gave them a new one on their arrival. Allegedly, they had made it shortly after the wandering knight left them last, after their baptism in Shadow. They heard the call of the void, they said. A higher calling spoke to them, and dictated they do it.</p><p>The little ghost was unnerved, but accepted.</p><p>With a new focus, the Ghost of Hallownest appeared slightly bigger, with a passing resemblance to how the Hollow Knight looked before when young—albeit, with enough difference for them to deny it. The Ghost’s horns were slightly curved inward compared to theirs, and they were still very small.</p><p>In fact, they bore a slight resemblance to the God of Gods, but they had little need to know that— but they suspected now: that the God of Gods sent off the Lord of Shades without their mask, in order for them to grow and gain a new focus.</p><p>And what of them now, now that they possessed a new mask?</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest sat in the Hollow Knight’s lap, in an attempt to keep them from getting up and going anywhere. Not that that could have stopped them leaving, but they had little need to go anywhere. So, at their sibling’s insistence, the Mask Maker was doing something for them, too.</p><p>
  <strong>Your mask is cracked. </strong>
</p><p>They knew. They already knew that because they saw it themselves.</p><p>Whether it was a result of being cast into this form again or a matter of pride, they refused to answer. Not even they understood what need for pretenses there were in regards to this sibling they had abandoned an age ago, but they did not feel like they could live up to whatever expectation they had of them, either.</p><p>
  <strong>Are you still hurting?</strong>
</p><p>They didn’t answer.</p><p>
  <strong>I don’t want you to hurt.</strong>
</p><p>It was foreign, and not foreign to have someone fretting over them like this. It was vaguely familiar in some respect that they were unwilling to linger on— But their cracked mask was a dull pain compared to the sharp pain that plagued them when they ran themselves through their nail, or when the Old Light took control over them and smashed them against the floor of the Black Egg.</p><p>If they had a Focus still, perhaps they could have healed the crack themselves, but that was beyond them. Pain was just a thing they had learned to live with. That didn’t need to be spoken, but it also didn’t need to be elaborated on. They simply dipped their head lower.</p><p>They didn’t need to think about it.</p><p><strong>You did not answer me on whether you liked your mask or not. </strong>The little ghost conveyed, emphatically— this time, demanding an answer.</p><p>The Hollow Knight tilted their head down, reluctantly.</p><p>The ghost was not content with that, but the Hollow Knight didn’t know how to put it into words. The answer was illusive like a lumafly out of reach, though the sentiment remained. For all their education, words were foreign to them. They’d spent their whole life not speaking to anyone, after all; There was never an expectation of an answer, though their smallest sibling insisted, and continued to talk to them as if they had.</p><p>
  <strong>Would you be fine if you looked completely different compared to before?</strong>
</p><p>… Was that not already the case?</p><p>The Hollow Knight dipped their head lower.</p><p>
  <strong>I recognized you right away.</strong>
</p><p>There was an affronted note in the little ghost’s whispers.</p><p>It took them a moment, but they nodded in response to that, the feeling returned. Yes, they remembered their small sibling, too.</p><p>The ghost was placated somewhat, as they settled back into their Sibling’s lap. Following that, however, there was a lull of silence that the Hollow Knight found somewhat uncharacteristic. Sensing this, the little ghost dipped their head guiltily, too.</p><p><strong>… Forgive me, I told a small lie. </strong>The ghost confessed, as they fidgeted in place.<strong> I didn’t remember you at all.</strong></p><p>The statement hung in the air for a moment, as both parties seemed to process it. The Ghost of Hallownest was apologetic at the lack of response, and tried to elaborate further.</p><p>
  <strong>I forgot about you and everyone when I fell from the entrance of the Abyss. I don’t remember what happened after.</strong>
</p><p>Amnesia? What a curious thing.</p><p>But rather than think of that, they wanted to ask something more concerning, given their childhood memories and more recent memories of their siblings shells falling and shattering, and their carapaces crunching underfoot on their way to the Ancient Basin. The Siblings did not care, and the Hollow Knight did not care to admit that the act made their chest ache.</p><p>That haunting memory came to them again.</p><p>Perhaps the ghost caught wind of it, as they glanced to them.</p><p>
  <strong>I didn’t break, though I fell. But I do not know why, or how.</strong>
</p><p>Neither did they. This sibling of theirs was cloaked in mystery after mystery. For one— How had they come to Hallownest in the first place, if the Kingdom was sealed and put in stasis?</p><p>The sentiment echoed, and was received.</p><p>
  <strong>I came in through the Howling Cliffs and broke the sealed door at King’s Pass.</strong>
</p><p>The Hollow Knight blinked slowly. Were they a Knight or a vandal? As if picking up on their vague confusion, the little knight kicked their legs with a fleeting smugness and amusement.</p><p><strong>It was easy.</strong> <strong>But I came because felt as if I was called. </strong></p><p>They responded. They kicked their still stubby legs back up and down in childlike amusement, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. They leaned backwards to look at the Hollow Knight, as their thoughts took on a wondering note. A hopeful tinge, as they reached out with their thoughts.</p><p>
  <strong>You know, I may have fallen into the Void Sea. Maybe it carried me somewhere far away. Maybe that’s how our other Siblings escaped our birthplace, too. What do you think?</strong>
</p><p>They didn’t think much of it, and only offered their silent ambivalence towards the matter. It was still no explanation, but it had to be accepted, nonetheless. The Ghost of Hallownest was living proof that such a thing was possible.</p><p>The Abyss was supposed to be inescapable. The doors were shut and Siblings had still escaped in trickles over time, it seemed. But once the Knight united the void and opened the gate, it surged outward. But from what the Hollow Knight keenly knew of void, was that large amounts of the stuff held things in stasis—so in consideration to the ghost’s small size, as initially perceived, they may have been floating in the void sea for some time. They never grew up like they did from their father’s light. But how would the Void not have destroyed the little ghost for falling into the sea, before it was unified under their will?</p><p>The Void had influence; they knew that much. Perhaps that was further justification towards the existence of the Entity that coalesced within the void— But that made no sense, either. A thing with a focus like that would have never allowed their father to go near the Abyss, and could not have existed prior. Shadow opposed Light, but a light could quell the dark.</p><p>The Hollow Knight blinked in realization, and unconsciously answered.</p><p>
  <em>The Lighthouse.</em>
</p><p>Their sibling peered up at them from their lap, and tilted their head. Their surprise burbled like bubbles of acid of Fog Canyon, without any of the volatileness. With their curiosity piqued, they parroted.</p><p>
  <strong>The Lighthouse?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>If it was on back then, perhaps you were carried away in the Void Sea after all. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Could that be?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Light would make it docile.</em>
</p><p><strong>That’s true, isn’t it? </strong>The little ghost chimed in. They seemed happy for a reason that the Hollow Knight could not place. <strong>But that Lighthouse was off when I arrived to the Birthplace. It looked as if it had been turned off for a very long time before I turned it back on.</strong></p><p>
  <em>I would not know that.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>The void asked the keeper to turn it off. Maybe it was for our siblings?</strong>
</p><p>They didn’t know. It was a mystery beyond their comprehension, but the pieces were at least clicking into place in regards to one thing.</p><p>
  <em>Your amnesia has an answer.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>It does?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>You said you arrived to Hallownest from outside.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>What of it?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>You were sent outside.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>…?</strong>
</p><p>They repeated the assertion.</p><p>
  <em>You were sent <strong>outside</strong> the Kingdom.</em>
</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest looked on uncomprehendingly.</p><p>
  <em>Willing, or unwilling. Regardless of the medium or method for your circumstance and your eventual homecoming. The moment you left the King’s beacon, your memories became forfeit.</em>
</p><p>The ghost made a sound, at that point. It was something akin to a silent squeak of realization, as they visibly jolted.</p><p>
  <strong>… For that alone?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I know of no other explanation.</em>
</p><p>The Knight seemed taken aback by this revelation, and their void receded from theirs. Perhaps they were trying to recall what memories they could from that time bygone, or they were thinking of something else. The Hollow Knight could not fault them, but left them to their thoughts instead. It was not their place to ask, or perhaps it was a result of their upbringing that implored them to remain indifferent.</p><p>All the while, the Mask Maker toiled away at their requested task with laborious fervor.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>An indeterminate amount of time had passed.</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest had fallen into a dreamless sleep, and was sat on the floor. They had not spoken to them again after the Hollow Knight told them of their realization. Their head was tipped inattentively down, and by this point, the Hollow Knight could have fallen asleep too under normal circumstances.</p><p>However, part of them feared sleeping, with the prospect of a dream awaiting them. It was an irrational fear at best, because they knew the Old Light had been shrouded and hidden away. Other unspoken worries haunted them to, now that the ghost was not awake to actively percept their feelings. They had thought that they came to peace with themselves at the Abyss, but their realization now was that they came to terms with their passing.</p><p>They had never planned for anything beyond that singular moment.</p><p>For them, the thought of getting a new mask was not a comfort like the little Ghost hoped it was.</p><p>They had thought that they would not have minded this change, but compared to all other instances of them gaining a new mask, it was always strictly with the intent of being the Pure Vessel and Hollow Knight.</p><p>But the mask granted to the Ghost of Hallownest was to give them a new focus.</p><p>What would theirs be?</p><p>No mind to think, no will to break, no voice to cry suffering.</p><p>They wondered if their father deliberately left out the principle of bearing emotions, in consideration to suffering, that one would have to be conscious of it in order to feel that way—which implied the presence of a mind.</p><p>Why had their father contradicted themselves?</p><p>It would have been better to be empty.</p><p>As they dipped their head low, they thought quietly amongst the ambience of the Mask Maker’s work, and was comforted by the vague traces of void around them.</p><p>It reminded them of the Pale King’s workshop.</p><p>“Despite spending all its life at the side of a light, and spending much of it being tormented by another, does it understand its origins? Does it find comfort in the void?”</p><p>The Hollow Knight lifted its head, and turned towards the spider. They weren’t being looked at or watched by the Mask Maker, but they had still spoken— but to whom? They canted their head and glanced to the Ghost of Hallownest, who continued to doze soundlessly.</p><p>The Mask Maker clarified.</p><p>“It thinks I have not wizened to its true nature. Or would that not be what it is thinking at all? To assume it thinks would be a grievance the Wyrm would take, if he were still here to insist.”  </p><p>The Mask Maker crooned as they brushed the object in their hands with a dedicated, hyper focus. Their eyes continued to swirl, the calling of the Void more than obvious. They were a bug possessed, but when they posed that question, while their hands continued to work, they turned to look at the Hollow Knight.</p><p>“Sum of the Wyrm’s regret. Hollow Knight, and once Pure Vessel, it was called.” They murmured, their gaze all-consuming, but in a different way compared to their sleeping sibling. “Bereft of purpose and without creator, what mask would suit it now?”</p><p>The Hollow Knight didn’t answer.</p><p>The Mask Maker chuckled as they made a breathy, airy sigh.</p><p>“That’s right. Your like weren’t born with a voice. All by the Wyrm’s design, but it that stands before me, it’s crown jewel, would know it best.”</p><p>The Mask Maker turned away, as the Hollow Knight turned to properly look at them.</p><p>“The Wyrm’s progeny were all exquisite,” They mumbled. “There were so many masks to give focuses to. Each one intended to be empty, but all bearing variances despite it being made for the same purpose— thus granting it potential. A vessel is merely a container; not at all different from a mask. It may hide its true self and subject itself and others to falsehood, but what remains is that it holds. Is that not true? The nature of void is a fickle, empty thing for it accepts all. Even those who reject it.”</p><p>“The Void-hearted one embodies it well. But what of it? Having lived among light as the Wyrm’s Shadow. Its mask is the tale tell. Does it know?”</p><p>The Hollow Knight didn’t know. This was something they were more used to; all of their life they had been talked at, and never given an opportunity to answer back—with the exceptions being Hornet, and now their smallest sibling. Not that they cared to answer in most occurrences.</p><p>They only stared, as the Mask Maker continued to ramble to themselves.</p><p>“Not Bug, nor Beast, nor god, yet born of God and Void, it was. Such is the case of brood, that it would take a stronger resemblance what it knew. One that embodies its nature of Void, and the other nurtured and scarred by Light. Both Vessels to be true, though what does it carry? Has it realized?”</p><p>The Hollow Knight lowered their head, not wanting to watch the Mask Maker’s work as they dipped their paintbrush back into a cavity on their workbench.</p><p>As much as they would have preferred that the Mask Maker would stop talking, they continued to speak.</p><p>“Scarred by time and no longer prim, its body lacking to suit the burden it was made to carry.”</p><p>They knew. <em>They knew. </em>They knew they were broken.</p><p>They could blame no one but themselves for their weakness, when they should have been better. The Infection escaped them because they weren’t good enough, though they had tried desperately to staunch their sense of self.</p><p>But more than anything, they wanted to make their father proud of them.</p><p>“Pride wills it to remain steadfast in its devotion, though liberated of purpose. A pitiful thing.”</p><p>—They froze as their life was being judged before them. The Void Entity had offered them their identity, and they inwardly knew all these things to be true. They had acknowledged it, and they thought they had accepted it. They shut their eyes tightly, distressed.</p><p>“Though failure, the Wyrm’s regret is one such thing it carries—”</p><p>They knew that.</p><p>They knew that better than anyone. Regrets, disappointment, their inability— Their failure. They knew it all. The Old Light had tormented them with these things. They didn’t want to think about it.</p><p>They didn’t want—</p><p>“—But would it be pleased, or be shamed, if it knew it contained Wyrm’s hopes as well?”</p><p>Their train of thought came to a grinding halt, as they looked to the Mask Maker on their own accord— only to realize they were no longer at their desk.</p><p>The Mask Maker had stopped working, and were standing in front of the Hollow Knight, with something held in their claws. The Hollow Knight stared, as the Mask Maker took a different tone as they reached out with an empty hand, and traced the spiderwebbing fracture on their face with a certain delicateness, and newfound lucidity in their eyes.</p><p>“Its masks were of my previous make. For its progeny, though damned, perhaps Wyrm held wishes for those that could not hope for anything. Duty-bound, I obliged to give it and all their masks, and in turn, existence, from due request.” They said simply. “In correspondence, I knew that the Wyrm sought to subjugate Void by giving it shape, but gave his creations no faces. A tasteless thing, that was, compared to a mask’s focus. Even broken, it still remains a thing of beauty.”</p><p>They paused, and took their hand away.</p><p>“Each line and curve, I knew it well. A proud and noble thing of perfect fit, though ill-judged in task appropriated, of a kind, its purity resolute.” The Mask Maker continued. The back of their new mask was all the broken knight could see, held in the claws of the ancient spider.</p><p>On its own, the mask beckoned.</p><p>“Did it serve you well, Hollow Knight?”</p><p>At the question, their posture straightened. Though it wasn’t a heart of void, the closest thing they had to a heart might have swelled, as the crack in their mask grew deeper. They quivered, but could not give more of themselves away. They were too prideful for that. Even if they wanted to collapse, and soundlessly cry out from the depths of their soul.</p><p>They bowed their head, instead.</p><p>A resounding crack woke up the Ghost of Hallownest. They woke up with a start, their panic flooding the room like an overblown scribble, before they stopped, and stared in awe. The void of their sibling’s soul rushed into the mask's cavity, and all at once, they reformed.</p><p>“As I thought.” The Mask Maker nodded, as the Hollow Knight knelt in front of them.</p><p>They were down on one knee, as if they were being crowned or knighted all over again; regal in every sense of the word, though still broken and scarred. Their arm had not returned, and never would. Still, they raised their head, and looked over to the knight, who was already dashing towards them. The little ghost ran forward to marvel at their sibling, expressing things that others would never be able to hear.</p><p>The spider's voice oozed with satisfaction, as clasped their hands together.</p><p>“Though purpose outlived, truly; there is no face that suits it better than this.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They let out a sigh of relief, but lifted their head immediately as they heard the sound of scuttling. A large, orb-like mask with six eyes greeted them; the bug stood a respectful distance away, but the flutter of their collared dress made the Hollow Knight freeze in place. They mistook them for Hornet, for a moment— but the color was wrong.</p><p>A Weaver?</p><p>A <em>live</em> Weaver?</p><p>---</p><p>Of which the Hollow Knight finds themselves in a spot of trouble, and learns a new trick.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bold is the Knight, and Italics is our Pure Vessel.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The little ghost moved about, a proverbial mote of light in the midst of the unwelcoming crypt of Deepnest. Since they had parted ways from the Mask Maker, they had been chipper, and moved with a skip in their step. They continued to amble along the horrors of Deepnest with a well-practiced step— either they were desensitized, thought it all as inconsequential, or they were just very eager to see Hornet again.</p><p>It could have been all three, for all they knew.</p><p>The Hollow Knight couldn’t exactly fathom the reason why, but concluded that it was probably for the best to keep the smaller vessel in high spirits— At least, in whatever capacity they could keep them in.</p><p>If they were even capable.</p><p>Even then, their minute anxieties were left unspoken, as they did their best to follow along the Knight as they led the path to the Distant Village. It had been so long that they couldn’t be sure of where it was. Their small sibling took this in stride, and they were content to follow, listening to them chirp on and on.</p><p>For a being without a voice, they were sure chatty.</p><p>
  <strong>Your mask is the same, but you seem different now!</strong>
</p><p>The little ghost paused, as they tried to find the words.</p><p>
  <strong>I think it’s because of your cloak.</strong>
</p><p>They nodded in agreement. It was still layered, but clean now— its interior was no longer stained that sickly orange from where the cysts had burst out of them. A dedicated part of it kept cover over their missing arm, though anyone would be hard-pressed to tell considering the cloak’s even length.</p><p>They found themselves staring at where the stump would be, though. With the loss still somewhat fresh, that phantom pain lingered.</p><p>When they reformed with their new shell, the last traces of their infection had been shed, along with the visible scar they had received from the Old Light. It did much to alleviate their suffering in its own way. With the little ghost’s comment, a lingering memory came to them— Their father once told them that their cloaks were part of them, akin to vestigial wings. The ‘cloak’ would grow with them in age, but would never see proper use.</p><p>Well, so they conveyed, just as the little ghost scrambled, and flapped their wings to evade a pit of centipedes. They stood to marvel at the particles of light, briefly. They knew those Monarch Wings well, but chose to not elaborate further on that matter.</p><p>Their cloaks were always supposed to be this way— less practical, but still part of themselves.</p><p>
  <strong>That’s not what I meant. </strong>
</p><p>They canted their head as they followed the light of their sibling’s lantern.</p><p>
  <em>If not that, what then?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Yours is pale now. </strong>
</p><p>… That’s what they chose to focus on? That was how it was supposed to be.</p><p>
  <strong>It was darker than mine when we were born.</strong>
</p><p>They blinked at that assertion. It was, wasn’t it?</p><p>It had been so long since that time. It changed when they grew— Perhaps due to the Pale King’s influence. That was the simple answer that they offered, but the Ghost of Hallownest did not seem content with that. If permitted to wonder, they could not help be be astounded that the little ghost was insatiable, as they were tenacious.</p><p>
  <strong>Our lost kin was like that, too. Their cloak—their wings were longer than their body, compared to either of us. </strong>
</p><p>The Hollow Knight didn’t comprehend. Maybe they didn’t have the capacity to imagine that. Their wings had been long in youth, but they never grew to a point where they scraped the ground.</p><p>
  <em>Truly?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Really. </strong>
</p><p> As if trying to figure how to convey this notion, they ghost attempted to pantomime initially. When their attempts were met with more confusion, they elaborated with their feelings, and sent trickles of memory—</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>The body of a broken Vessel settled in the midst of roaring wind.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Light seeds converging though they had tried to smash every single one with frantic swipes.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>A glow of orange eyes, and overbearing weight of their infection forced them into an unnatural slouch.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Something that could have been tears fell, as they disjointedly raised their nail.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Their wings so long that they were segmented and tattered from dragging against the ground; their wings fluttered as they cleaved through the air.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>A forlorn hand being reached out to them—</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The memory abruptly ended there, as the little ghost stopped walking.</p><p>There was lingering regret as they might not have wanted to overshare, but had done so by accident.</p><p>They were always a few paces forward due to being adamant in lead to show the Hollow Knight the way to the Distant Village, but now they looked down.</p><p>
  <strong>I wonder, when will I grow, too?</strong>
</p><p>What were they on about? They had grown, clearly, and very recently. The Hollow Knight made an indicative gesture by lowering their surviving arm to the ghost’s old height, and waited for their sibling to register the comparison.</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest squinted at them.</p><p>Though they had not been there, perhaps the Ghost of Hallownest had grown roughly to be same size as their lost kin. They were still shorter than Hornet, and much smaller than themselves by comparison— but bigger, nonetheless. Their small sibling blustered at them, their void expanding momentarily in a comparable way to puffed cheeks. They didn’t know how they were supposed to react to that, causing the little ghost to deflate.</p><p>They sullenly slouched, and turned away.</p><p>
  <strong>I want to catch up to you. </strong>
</p><p>How odd, that was.</p><p>Especially when they were the ones leading the way, literally, like this.</p><p>But the Hollow Knight recognized it, nonetheless— The little ghost had a strong sense of yearning to be fully grown as they were, for some reason. Though small in stature, one could argue that they had been surpassed already in leagues by their smallest sibling for achieving the impossible on multiple occasions, and being the Lord of Shades. But it was an argument—if only for the fact that their pride would not let them concede so easily.</p><p>But the ghost’s new mask was a step in that direction. So as long as they lived, they would become an adult eventually— a privilege that their other siblings would not have.</p><p>Quelled by that thought, the little ghost nodded, and took care not to get distracted again as they led the way. Accepting this, the Hollow Knight marched after them, and unknowingly softened, as they felt a slight nostalgia while engaged in the act.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>At some point, they might have lost track of the light of the ghost’s lantern. It was an honest mistake, and part of them had felt ridiculous over letting them out of their sight. They had paused for the briefest of moments to catch their breath, and refused to suggest it so. They didn’t want to call out to the little ghost.</p><p>They mentally chided themselves for not swallowing their pride and reaching out first, but what was done was done. They were alone in Deepnest now, armed with a broken nail that they had no room to swing around. They could have pondered the logistics of where they were, but they had no map, and it had been ages since they had last been here.</p><p>What to do?</p><p>Wandering Deepnest without a lantern was a trial and a half; the tunnels were small and the ambience wasn’t at all what they were accustomed to.</p><p>The bioluminescence of the mushrooms offered comfort in some respect, but not much. There was a chance if they wandered blindly, they would get even more lost. Waiting here meant they could be attacked by any number of things, including any of Deepnest’s brood—and they had no interest in fighting in these conditions.</p><p>Their weight and height worked against them in this enclosed space; hazards were everywhere, and they found themselves getting snagged on a plethora of things. They were going to be in so much trouble when they were found.</p><p>They spotted the little ghost; their pale mask a beacon in the midst of the darkness, and by that, they were comforted. As they breathed a sigh of relief and started towards them, the Ghost of Hallownest seemed to have heard something, and wandered out of sight.</p><p>Where were they going?</p><p>Though difficult to navigate, they attempted to give chase after the little ghost. Corner after corner, platform after platform, at one point they nearly fell inside a hole they couldn’t see. But still, with dogged persistence, they chased after the ghost until a cavern opened up, leading to a smaller section. A weaver corpse was curled up, and cast to the side.</p><p>Was this the Distant Village?</p><p>This wasn’t what they remembered it to be.</p><p>As they lowered their head and darted through the passage, with their hand feeling forward, they blinked as they recognized the opening of a chamber. Had they ever been here? With their nail scraping the ground, they entered.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There was a notable lack of sound, as their footsteps echoed. Weaver corpses laid to the side, among strewn about caskets and containers. Their nail scraped against the ground momentarily as they flicked their head—spotting the Ghost of Hallownest down the corridor. Their light footsteps were easy to make out, as they started after them.</p><p>Where were they going?</p><p>They tried to convey that sentiment through their shared void, but there was no answer as the little ghost jumped, and disappeared from view. That was different. Was something wrong?</p><p>Stowing away their nail, they ran after them.</p><p>
  <em>Where are you going?</em>
</p><p>They tried again, as they wandered through the crypt. Spools of silk became more apparent as they wandered farther in, and they found an uneasy feeling churning within them. There were dead weavers everywhere. They spotted the little ghost across a huge gap, and they continued to walk forward without looking back.</p><p>Was the Ghost of Hallownest ignoring them?</p><p>
  <em>Why?</em>
</p><p>There was a relatively long fall from the perch; somehow, the little ghost had made it to the other side, but this wasn’t all that surprising. They had demonstrated their ability with the crystal heart earlier, so it wasn’t unthinkable. But why were they leaving them behind?</p><p>Without thinking, they leapt after them—and barely cleared it. They clung onto the ledge with their single arm, kicking up frantically as they tried to muster the strength to climb. They had vague memories of their climb flicker in their mind, as they hoisted themselves up into the painfully small opening. What was this?</p><p>
  <em>… Sibling?</em>
</p><p>They called out again, as they clawed their way down. Again, they vanished out of sight. Trepidation and anxiety welled within them, as they scrambled to keep up. They wished they were smaller, but stopped at the pit of spikes at the end of the hall. Falling from that area prior would have only left a moderate injury, but this was serious. What was going on?</p><p>Was the ghost doing this on purpose? Were they upset with them? Were they mad?</p><p>What had they done wrong?</p><p>They shook their head. Leaping out, they attempted to reach the highest point of the wall, before kicking off and scrambling to grasp the ledge—the spikes at the bottom taunted them, as they desperately kicked at the wall to find a foothold. The ghost was at the end of the hall, watching them struggle. They winced, but barely managed to pull themselves up. This place was making them feel claustrophobic, and there didn’t seem to be anywhere else to go from here.</p><p>The Hollow Knight stared at them, and tried to question their actions. Why were they doing this? As they reached out and edged closer, the Ghost of Hallownest’s head jerked, and twisted with a sickening crack. And then the screaming. As the body of the little ghost contorted, they started screaming the whole while.</p><p>A dark skeletal structure pulsed out of their sibling’s shroud, as a pair of wings unfurled.</p><p>And they realized—</p><p>
  <strong> <em>That wasn’t their sibling.</em> </strong>
</p><p>They had no time or room to react. A Jetstream of acid gushed out, burning them, as they tried to roll and evade the worst of it. That didn’t save them from the Nosk rushing at them, as their head reared back, and crashed into the Hollow Knight at full force. </p><p>They were sent flying from the impact. They thought they would have crashed straight into the wall and fell into the pit of spikes below, but by some act of mercy, the wall gave way.</p><p>They tumbled, and landed into a cramped space— their burns searing, and carapace aching. Untouched spools of silk crammed each cranny, despite their unceremonious landing that should have ruined everything. But at the center of this room all had then staring wide-eyed.</p><p>Why was there a Seal of Binding here?</p><p>Rather— it was incomplete. If anything, it looked like a prototype of the one used to seal them away all that time ago.</p><p>But why—</p><p>They were lulled out of stupor as the screaming of the Nosk cut through the air. It was screaming and trying to cram itself into the crevice, wings flapping frantically as it stuck its head into the hole. In response, the Hollow Knight floundered for their nail and stabbed it, causing it to recoil away from the entrance. It shrieked.</p><p>This thing was noisier than the Ghost of Hallownest, but what made their head spin was the sudden onset of claustrophobia. This space was enclosed—there was a seal of binding that, for a second, tricked them into thinking that they were still sealed away in the Black Egg Temple. The acid brought back memories of the searing burns from their infection.</p><p>They started to hyperventilate, as the Nosk’s screams rang in their ears. Acid was melting away the opening, making it larger. It was only a matter of time before the Nosk got to them, and then what?</p><p>The memory didn’t belong to them, but they found themselves thinking of the lost kin that was found in the Ancient Basin; dead, and alone. Would that be them, next?</p><p>Would they die here, without anyone knowing?</p><p>Why was it only now, that they feared death? Time and time again, they were saved by forces outside of their control. This time, they were by themselves. No one was here to watch them or scrutinize their actions. No one was here to tell them what to do.</p><p>No one was here.</p><p>Why was it now, after only having companionship for such a short while, that they discovered that they didn’t want to be alone?</p><p>… Would they ever be found?</p><p>They didn’t know.</p><p>The thought plagued them. How guilted were they, for remembering that they turned their back on the little ghost at their birthplace. Perhaps it felt something like this. Perhaps all their siblings had felt this way, at some point. This was fear. It grasped at their throat, making it hard for them to breathe.</p><p>But if they fell here, would this Nosk use their form to trick their siblings, too?</p><p>
  <em>Ah.</em>
</p><p>Why had they thought of that?</p><p>
  <em>Ah—</em>
</p><p>What would they think if they saw them here, like this? They wondered how unsightly they looked right now. How pathetic would it be to fall here, after receiving a new mask?</p><p>But, they were supposed to be more than just their mask. Purpose outlived, a they were a knight to a kingdom no more. There was no one else but them right now. There was no one else here.</p><p>… What were they hiding from?</p><p>Why were they holding back?</p><p>The Hollow Knight held their breath.</p><p>Despite their injuries, the void in their soul surged, and quivered at the realization. The emotional high was all-encompassing, as they felt something within them stir. Welling determination burned in their chest, as they found themselves doubling over. Their insides were churning.</p><p>
  <em>Focus.</em>
</p><p>Their soul was crying out, as the Nosk’s screams cut through the air.</p><p>
  <em>Focus!</em>
</p><p>They shifted their hold on their nail.</p><p>
  <em>FOCUS!</em>
</p><p>Light exploded, as the Hollow Knight howled.</p><p>The incomplete seal of binding kept the spools of silk from being destroyed from the impact, as the Soul exploded around the Hollow Knight in a sphere— The Nosk received the brunt of it all, as it crashed to the bottom of the spike pit, as soul knitted together their wounds.</p><p>The seal of binding held its form, just barely, by some miracle— But it was beyond their comprehension, nor did they care about it. They leapt, and used the Nosk as a foothold to reach the small tunnel, and willed themselves to the other side.</p><p>The void answered, and displaced them smoothly. They clasped the wall and slid down in an attempt to ease their fall, as the Nosk crashed against the corridor, giving chase after them.</p><p>But it mattered not.</p><p>They had room now.</p><p>
  <em>Finally.</em>
</p><p>Grabbing their nail and reversing their grip, they assumed a stance as the Winged Nosk screamed, the shell of the little Ghost rattled. It swooped downward from the hidden passage, spraying boiling acid, the Hollow Knight leapt out of the way. It burned holes in the paneling, and they felt their chest tighten at the sight.</p><p>They pressed onward. Swiping downward, they used the length of their nail to their advantage, they smashed it against the Nosk.</p><p>It screamed from the weight of the initial strike, but they glanced off of it, and scrambled to get their footing on the ground. That wasn’t supposed to happen.</p><p>Did they not put enough force into their attack? Perhaps the lack of their right arm was throwing them off—but that was ultimately inconsequently. It didn’t matter. They would just have to do it as many times as it took if they couldn’t get it right.</p><p>As they thought so, the Nosk made another spray of acid.</p><p>They wove through it—leaping as high as they could, before vertically stabbing their nail downward into its abdomen. Its skeletal frame splintered under the pressure, as it yowled and shook violently—ramming them into the wall in response. Taken off kilter, the Hollow Knight let go of their nail as they were pinned to the wall; with their nail still lodged into the Nosk’s back.</p><p>It screeched as it started to wrap around them, but their void screamed out in response.</p><p>The Hollow Knight blinked out of existence, and appeared on top of them. With better positioning, this time, they used all their weight to vertically drive their nail down, while the Nosk screamed from the sudden acquisition of weight on their back. The effect was twofold—</p><p>Gravity claimed the Nosk and the Knight, and there was a sickening crunch as the nail split its spine apart.</p><p>They held their breath in vain, as the wind was taken out of them in the next second. The Nosk’s death throes were nonexistent as it exploded— blowing the Hollow Knight backwards, into a collection of casks. The false mask of their sibling rolled by their feet moments after; they shook with disgust, and leaned back into their crater.</p><p>
  <em>… How exhausting.</em>
</p><p>They stayed in place with their eyes semi-closed, as the adrenaline from the fight wore off. Their chest was rising up and down with each of their breaths, however labored. The acid stung, but it was nothing compared to the searing heat of the infection—but with that thought, they moved to check their limbs in a small panic.</p><p>Everything but their right arm was accounted for. And at least that time, they hadn’t let go of their nail.</p><p>
  <em>… Exhausting.</em>
</p><p>They slouched out of relief. It took another herculean effort to right themselves, and just sit down. They lowered their head; perhaps they were being too lax, but if anything came to attack them now, they could cross that bridge when they got there.</p><p>It dawned on them, that it was the first time in ages that they had been able to focus with clarity. Even their void answered them, and allowed them to pass through the Nosk’s attack, unscathed. How did they do that? They didn’t know, and they couldn’t will themselves to do it.</p><p>As they looked at their singed hand, they decided to attempt the basics, and focus. As they tried to muster the feeling again, the effect wasn’t nearly as explosive—but their acid burns knitted back together, leaving only traces of phantom pain.</p><p>They let out a sigh of relief, but lifted their head immediately as they heard the sound of scuttling. A large, orb-like mask with six eyes greeted them; the bug stood a respectful distance away, but the flutter of their collared dress made the Hollow Knight freeze in place. They mistook them for Hornet, for a moment— but the color was wrong.</p><p>A Weaver?</p><p>A <em>live</em> Weaver?</p><p>“… I come to check the commotion, and find another stranger in the den. This visitor proves to be a boon, however.” The weaver spoke— her voice as clear as a bell, as she stood stationary. Her gaze eventually settled on the Hollow Knight, as she continued. “Thank you for killing that horrid thing.”</p><p>So she knew it was here? … Were they being followed the entire time? It was a likely possibility, but they held onto their nail tightly, just in case. They stared at her warily, and tried to access the situation.</p><p>If she was going to attack, she would have done so already, by now. But, she’d already stated her gratitude for killing ‘that thing’. The Hollow Knight did not ease, but did make a point to stand to their full height.</p><p>All the while, she stared at the mask that lay on the floor.</p><p>“That thing made its home in our derelict Den. Even though its infection disappeared, it saw fit to nestle among the corpses of Weavers. Horrid thing.” She chattered angrily, mask opening up to bristle at the broken, false shell— but seemed to remember herself, as she looked at the Hollow Knight, and the shell again.</p><p>The Weaver tilted her head.</p><p>“… Now that I look at you, you bear resemblance to the little bug that took our Weaversong; our song of farewell.” She said simply. Her voice softened, and the buzz resounded pleasantly in that otherwise-abandoned chamber. “Are you of kin?”</p><p>The Hollow Knight stared at the Weaver as she stated that in such a factual manner; it’s not like they could have responded in kind, but they physically nodded, and mentally shook their head at the Ghost of Hallownest. Or were they more of a pillager than a knight? Rogue vessel, indeed.</p><p>Maybe they should ask for it to be returned. The Ghost of Hallownest could not possibly be that unreasonable to insist on keeping it. Of course, that meant finding the little ghost again— Which they had not yet accomplished. They lowered their head slightly at the thought, with a muted, internal sigh.</p><p>The Weaver, seemingly picking up on their exasperation, shook their head with vague amusement. Their dress fluttered as they tittered, and lifted a claw from beneath to place it over their mouth would be.</p><p>“Oh, it matters not to me that it was taken. The time for partings came and went. The song left to us was meant to be a memento given, but it only served as a reminder of how lonely things became once they were no longer here. I care not for it.”</p><p>She shook her head.                   </p><p>“The Weavers departed from Hallownest to our faraway homeland before the onset of Deepnest’s infection. I was one of those who chose to stay, because I wanted to remember— but when that thing claimed residence here, I could not bring myself to fight because of these memories of beloved brood, queen, and princess. I was incapable, but you succeeded, stranger.”</p><p>The Hollow Knight understood this. Nosks were cruel in that regard; if it had appeared as the Pale King, they might have been rendered incapable, too.</p><p>… Not that they were thankful it appeared as the little ghost, but as they pondered the rationale, it made sense. It might have done so if it had been stalking the both of them the entire time.</p><p>What a chilling thought.</p><p>“With the infection gone, the weavers that survive yet may return to this place, and I want to greet them when they do.” The Weaver murmured softly, as she looked to the vast amounts of silk spools.</p><p>Some had been burned, eaten through, and rendered worthless with the Nosk’s attacks— not to mentioned the damaged areas where they had been thrown around. They were apologetic for it. In their clumsiness, they did not think to be more thorough towards where the nosk was aiming, or to have the foresight to assume this place had residents that were alive. They hung their head slightly, waiting for their reprimand.</p><p>The Weaver either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. She had a far-off gaze, before she turned glanced back at the Hollow Knight, amused.</p><p>“You don’t speak, but your regret stains the air. … Would you think I’d be cross with you that damage was done to the den?” She asked, with feigned anger—half of her mask pulling away to reveal teeth in jest. Her mask snapped back into place when the Hollow Knight gave her no visible reaction— but mentally, they were startled.</p><p>She decompressed, somewhat.</p><p>“… I should not have to say it, but nothing has come out unscathed by that plague. Even the uninfected. I am simply happy that the horrid thing is no more. Silk is precious, yes, but there is more than enough silk remaining in this den, I daresay, for just one Weaver to make use of.”</p><p>That was a true assertion. But she couldn’t have been the last Weaver… at least, in theory. As they thought that, they glanced at her to percept the matter from her reaction, but stopped. They noticed that she was laughing.</p><p>Her laughter was pleasant, like the sound of wind chimes.</p><p>It startled the Hollow Knight slightly; how could she still laugh like that? Moreover, they felt the void within them churning in some respect, as they fought the fluster creeping up on them. They were being laughed at. Why were they being laughed at?</p><p>They straightened their posture in an attempt to maintain their dignity, but the Weaver only tittered with their light, bell-like laugh.</p><p>“… Huhu. And they say masks show no emotion. Or is that your face, stranger? Either way, you’ve got a lovely symmetry about you.” The Weaver shrugged, as her six eyes crinkled, and for some odd reason that they couldn’t fathom, they felt incredibly self-conscious. She eased her gaze, after a moment. “You see, I tire of the perpetuation of tragedy and loneliness. After all this time, though you are a stranger to Deepnest, speaking to someone sane again does my heart well. You give the air of a Hallownest noble, but you don’t act like one. You are a good listener.”</p><p>It was all they could do. It’s not as if they had a voice they could reply with.</p><p>Still, with what body language they were willing to give away, they nodded to the Weaver. In turn, she looked pleased at their response.</p><p>“That’s much better. Don’t you know?" She spoke melodiously. "When spoken to, at the very least, it’s important to let the other know that they’ve been heard. After all, more than being alone… feeling lonely in the company of others is worse, isn’t it?”</p><p>Memories came to them, of their past experiences. Perhaps they were numb to the idea that others wanted their reaction, or that their upbringing was too ingrained on them. That wasn’t to say that there weren’t times in the past that they wished they could have responded to others in a capacity that could be understood. Reflecting on it, perhaps their standoffishness wasn’t as necessary.</p><p>Or maybe, they had just become incredibly awkward, and had no idea how to properly interact with others. That was a thought.</p><p>But in consideration to the unsolicited advice— To this Weaver, they nodded more openly. Her eyes smiled at them again.</p><p>“Good, good.”</p><p>The Hollow Knight pondered to themselves, if they should have left, then. They still had to find their small sibling, but… They never had to indulge in conversation before, much less be the one to initiate. Rare as it was, they continued to look at her, before they slowly glanced around the Weaver’s Den—and then settled their gaze back on the spider.</p><p>“Oh? You mean to ask me what I’m doing here?”</p><p>They nodded slightly.</p><p>“This place is home.” She answered demurely. “… I think those who still live will return home eventually, so I’ve chosen to wait for them. You would not think me foolish, would you?”</p><p>They shook their head.</p><p> “I thank you.” The Weaver curtsied— either mockingly, or genuinely. They couldn’t tell. “Now that the Nosk is no more, I think I will spin a song of my own, for the homeward bound. After all, the silk sings of our Princess’s return. That alone is cause for celebration, however minute. But you… What shall I do with you?”</p><p>She fell silent as she stared at them. They stood under her scrutinizing gaze, before she abruptly scuttled past them, and towards the silk spools. She plucked at the bobbins, humming, before she pulled loose threads from multiple.</p><p>“Lone stranger. The Weaversong was already taken, and your lack of another arm means you lack a means to carry a light, and fight at the same time." She cooed, with a teasing note. "What a pitiful creature you are, to not have as many as we do.”</p><p>Their grip tightened on their nail, as they set it in front of them; not to be intimidating, but as to insist that in spite of their handicap, they had proven capable enough to kill the Nosk. They shook their head staunchly. She laughed again.</p><p>The thread danced in their claws, and the spools began to unwind. Though she had the same playfulness as weaving a crown of flowers, her work was expert and precise; she gracefully plucked other threads, as if she were playing an instrument, while the Hollow Knight stood vigil, watching her work as she spun, and laced the threads together with her many arms. Particles of silk, or light—whichever it was, fluttered in the air as she plucked the strings.</p><p>“There is magic in our silk.” She hummed, as she continued to work. “Your magic is of a different like, soul-wielder. The intensity of what you did quaked the entirety of the den. I haven’t seen such a thing in a long time. So I wonder— are you the same as I?” She murmured, the silk singing in her hands; what she was working on was glowing faintly. “If both of us disappeared from this land, maybe there would be no one else to sing of silk and soul. How sad would that be?”</p><p>And like that, she stopped.</p><p>She stood up, and beckoned to the Hollow Knight’s remaining hand, which was resting on the guard of their nail. They obliged. With meticulous delicacy, she laced the ribbon around their wrist, before tying it into a neat bow.</p><p>It glowed faintly once she took her claws away from it. They marveled at the intricacy of the lace, turning their wrist several times—and to that, the Weaver’s eyes crinkled in a smile again. Perhaps she was pleased with herself, or the fact that they were entranced by her handiwork. Regardless, she craned her head upward.</p><p>“Hurry on where you need to be, lone stranger. Deepnest is a place not for the weak-willed, even though many a bug used to pay this place pilgrimage. I’ve a need to prepare for a plethora of homecomings, myself.”</p><p>The Weaver dropped her limbs, and began to scuttle towards the depths while humming. The Hollow Knight watched her leave, and bowed courteously with closed eyes. From somewhere afar, her voice echoed briefly with a delighted laugh.</p><p>“Huhu. Lone stranger, or pale prince, would you be?” The Weaver almost sang out. “When I set to weaving on my loom, I wonder if I’ll think of you. Should it please you, come visit this place again, Weaverfriend.”</p><p>They didn’t know, but the thought of visiting wasn’t a particularly bad one. They felt no regret in entertaining it. As the sound of her humming grew farther and farther away, the Hollow Knight turned around, and started walking to the entrance of the den.</p><p>Being without the light of lumaflies was noticeable, but not as daunting compared to before. The ribbon laced to their wrist glowed faintly, as they stooped low through the passage.</p><p>They still had a ways to go.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The ribbon that they had been given was a simple thing, despite its elegant craftmanship. As they held their nail in hand at the ready against the horrors of Deepnest, it glowed faintly, offering light and some peace of mind. Many times, there were instances where they felt a multitude of eyes on them, but the scuttling never led to anything more. The worst they encountered afterward were Dirtcarvers, and the occasional Corpse Creeper. While still claustrophobic to some extent, now, at least, they were capable of seeing what was ahead of them—and with it, their anxiety lessened.</p><p>Though disheveled and covered in cobwebs, they eventually came to see the light of a familiar lantern—and the Ghost of Hallownest dashed right into them, in a panic.</p><p>
  <strong>I found you! You’re here!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Where did you go?! </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>At first I thought I couldn’t hear your footsteps because of the scuttling and all the noises, so I stopped— I waited. I looked back, but you really weren’t there! I backtracked looking for you, but I couldn’t find you!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Are you hurt?!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>What happened?!</strong>
</p><p>They had no time to answer any of these questions, as Hornet flew in. She, too, looked notably upset as she tiptoed and brushed off cobwebs from their shoulder—but then started patting them, as if to make sure that there were no wounds that they were hiding from her. All the while, they stood compliantly and allowed her to fuss over them, but she stopped as she lifted their cloak, and saw their left wrist.</p><p>“Hollow Knight.” Hornet asked, as she suddenly spoke out—her voice overpowering the little ghost, as they stopped to listen to her, too. “Where did you get that?”</p><p>There was some hesitance in her actions as she eventually settled for looking directly at their wrist. The ribbon continued to glow with a faint light as they lifted their hand to show their siblings what they had received from the Weaver.</p><p>
  <strong>Oh. That wasn’t there before.</strong>
</p><p>The little ghost chirped, as they hopped to get a better look at it. Considerately, they knelt down to let both siblings look, but did not undo the bow. Hornet, however, was just as entranced as they were when they first received it.</p><p>At her question, the Hollow Knight waited for her to meet their gaze, before they turned towards the direction where they came from. She blinked, but the realization seemed to come to her a moment after, as the little ghost toyed with the lace. They looked at them with their big, childish eyes.</p><p>
  <strong>Where did you get it from? </strong>
</p><p>Someone gave it to them.</p><p>
  <strong>It’s pretty.</strong>
</p><p>Yes. They seconded that notion.</p><p>Hornet seemed to think so too, without knowing what they were both thinking.</p><p>“… I didn’t know there were dedicated Weavers still left in Deepnest.” She murmured quietly, spellbound, in a way. “I thought they all left.”</p><p>To that, the Hollow Knight shook their head.</p><p>Both Hornet and the little ghost were taken aback. They paused, and both looked at each other to exchange glances and unspoken sentiments, but Hornet recovered faster. She breathed a sigh of relief, as what might have been hope tinged her sharp features.</p><p>“There are others?” Hornet asked.</p><p>They nodded carefully.</p><p>What a sight it was, to see her soften like that.</p><p>“I see. I will have to find the time to visit the Weaver’s Den, when I’m able.” Hornet murmured, before looking at the Hollow Knight and placing her hand over theirs. “I’m glad to see that you’re all right, Hollow Knight. The little ghost came all the way here in search for you and found me first. We backtracked to cover other areas, but here you are instead—having found us. It seems all that time you spent sealed away did not diminish your skills. … I’m both thankful, and impressed.”</p><p>Her assessment was flattering, but very untrue. Fighting against that Winged Nosk was the wakeup call they needed—but they didn’t need to tell Hornet that. Instead, they raised their hand and rested it on her on the head for a moment. She seemed to freeze in place at the action. How odd. The Pale King used to do that to comfort her when she was a child.</p><p>Meanwhile, the little ghost was prattling on as they normally did, while boring holes into their soul.</p><p>
  <strong>Why aren’t you that nice to me?</strong>
</p><p>They were still learning how to be familiar with them. Patience would have to be necessary, on their front—but it wasn’t anything personal. Rather, they felt that their smallest sibling would be offended, if they treated them like a child. They gently reminded them; they might be small, but they were also clutchmates.</p><p>Hornet was younger than them, but physically older than the Ghost of Hallownest. The ghost seemed to mull that over, before they echoed the sentiment; appreciative, but somewhat dissatisfied.</p><p>They decided to start.</p><p>
  <em>I am glad I caught up with you.</em>
</p><p>The ghost lost their apprehension for the umpteenth time in this past conversation alone. Traces of confusion, calculated doubt, and pleasant surprise came through their void-hearted bond, as they nodded in turn.</p><p>
  <strong>As am I. Sister and I were both really worried about you.</strong>
</p><p>How kind. They were, too.</p><p>
  <strong>I was sure she was going to kill me for losing you.</strong>
</p><p>An exaggeration, if they had ever heard one.</p><p>
  <strong>Don’t go off on your own, okay?</strong>
</p><p>They wouldn’t. But even then, it’s not as if they were a grub that needed watching all the time. They had had their fill of that with Palace life, but they would never say no to being doted over. The little ghost being this fussy over them brought back that odd feeling of nostalgia that they couldn’t place, however. Though, they could identify was the notion of being easily distracted like a grub— not at all dissimilar to their smallest sibling.</p><p>
  <strong>Hey!</strong>
</p><p>At once, the Ghost of Hallownest puffed their cheeks at them. The effect was instantaneous.</p><p>Amusement crept on them, as they parroted the motion they had seen the weaver make prior. With their only hand, they slowly lifted it to their face, and closed their eyes.</p><p>For the first time, both little ghost and Hornet bore witness to the Hollow Knight opening their mouth from beneath their mask, as if to stifle a silent, carefree laugh.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Pure Vessel they were, but they were also elder sibling to the Pale Gift. It became commonplace for them to attend to her because her tantrums would shake the walls of the castle, and she would go searching for them if not allowed their company. The Pale King thought her behavior would shift, but it didn’t.</p><p>Hornet’s obstinance outmatched his.</p><p>It was one of the few recorded instances where their father been completely and utterly defeated.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bold is the Knight, and Italics is our Pure Vessel.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Did something happen?</strong>
</p><p>The Hollow Knight they peered down, and looked to the little ghost. They were sitting on a plinth together, and with the Hollow Knight occupying the brunt of it, the ghost had elected to sit on their lap, as they were doing prior. Hornet had left some time ago, again; perhaps to visit the Weaver that they had found in the den. She said that she would return, but that hadn't come to pass, yet.</p><p>They had been idly staring at the ribbon tied to their wrist before being called to attention by their sibling.</p><p>The ghost was peering upward at them, waiting for an answer.</p><p>
  <em>Yes.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Was it something good?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>What makes you assume so?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>You laughed.</strong>
</p><p>They did. Even that surprised them.</p><p>
  <strong>You surprised us both. I didn’t know you could laugh. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Neither did I. </em>
</p><p><strong>So what happened? </strong>They repeated, as they kicked their legs up and down in excitement. They seemed happy at the thought. <strong>It was something good, wasn’t it?</strong></p><p>
  <em>I encountered a Flying Nosk. </em>
</p><p>Their limbs dropped.</p><p>They stared hard.</p><p>
  <strong>What?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I was lured to the Weaver Den. There was a Nosk.</em>
</p><p>There was a pause. There was palpable confusion that the ghost was trying to work through. Such thoughts seeped through the Void Heart— <strong>How? Why? What about that encounter could have possibly made them laugh? Wasn't that terrifying?</strong></p><p>These thought were not meant to be shared, however, thus the Hollow Knight didn’t respond to them. They did, however, take amusement in their reaction.</p><p>Perhaps that’s why the Weaver laughed at them so much.</p><p>Eventually, they spoke up again.</p><p>
  <strong>I thought I killed the one that was here already. </strong>
</p><p>It was a different nosk, they reminded.</p><p>
  <strong>I didn’t know they could fly. It could fly?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>It could fly. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>That’s annoying.</strong>
</p><p>They nodded in agreement. It wasn’t an outlandish thought to think that Deepnest was home to multiple. Although, it seemed that that particular nosk had only made its home recently. … Likely preying on Weavers, at that.</p><p>They hadn’t intended to tell the Ghost of Hallownest this, but it seemed warranted. But now, the little ghost was scowling.</p><p>
  <strong>I was lured by one, too. </strong>
</p><p>Perhaps they were more alike than they thought. Some feelings came through their bond of void, as it seemed the ghost was debating on something. Maybe what to say? Maybe to ask what the Nosk took the shape of.</p><p>The little ghost chirped again.</p><p>
  <strong>I’m glad you’re okay.</strong>
</p><p>They nodded along to the sentiment. Silence settled over the both of them again, at least until their small sibling began to fidget again; they bunched up the Hollow Knight's cloak around them, and leaned against their front.</p><p>
  <strong>I know Sister gave us this room to relax, but I just can’t manage it. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Why not?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>It’s not the same as a bench. But even then, last time I was here, I was tricked and almost eaten. </strong>
</p><p>Considering what they knew of Deepnest, this seemed par for the course. But they acknowledged it; the little ghost wasn’t fond of Deepnest, but were bearing with their sister’s hospitality.</p><p>They nodded comprehendingly. The Ghost of Hallownest, in all their destructiveness, their ability to be completely unpredictable and staunchly determined towards their goals, was afraid of spiders.</p><p>They didn't blame them in the slightest.</p><p>
  <em>That won't happen. Not if the Devout want Hornet's ire.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>You think so?</strong>
</p><p>They knew so. The Ghost even mentioned the threat that Hornet would have killed them; to that, their small sibling, in their chagrin, echoed their agreement.</p><p>
  <em>Rest. </em>
</p><p>The little ghost conveyed a wordless protest, as they sulked in their lap. Feelings of concern came through. Shouldn’t their sibling sleep first? They were attacked by a Nosk, of all things.</p><p>The Hollow Knight clarified.</p><p>
  <em>You would stand to benefit most from rest. You just received a new focus. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>And what about you?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I will wait until Hornet returns.</em>
</p><p>They paused.</p><p>
  <em>She shouldn’t be long.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>You won’t leave anywhere without me, will you?</strong>
</p><p>Again, they would ask this? They shook their head.</p><p>They would not.</p><p>
  <strong>You won’t?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I won’t.</em>
</p><p>Content with that, the little ghost started easing, and nodded. Remembering the ghost’s question before, the Hollow Knight raised their hand, and stroked their smallest sibling’s head between their horns. They seemed dumbfounded initially, before their head dipped. The unease in their void quelled, as a warm feeling blossomed.</p><p>They started nodding off immediately, despite the minute burble of protest.</p><p><em>Rest.</em> They repeated.</p><p>They tried to fight against it. In spite of everything, however, the little ghost had fallen asleep within moments, and the Hollow Knight stayed stationary, and kept watch over them.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The little Ghost slept soundly on the plinth, bundled in their own wings. The Hollow Knight sat beside them, staying vigil, with their nail resting in front of them. They slouched somewhat, as they waited.</p><p>Hornet had still not returned.</p><p>They glanced at their small sibling, for good measure. They were not leaving or abandoning them, they were going to look for Hornet. Once she was found, they would sleep soundly— at least, they would think so.</p><p>With that thought, they stood, and lumbered away— careful to make as little noise as possible, as they stopped low to make sure their horns wouldn’t scrape against the halls.</p><p>They wandered for a time.</p><p>The ribbon on their wrist faintly glowed, as they found themselves accosted by the feeling of many eyes on them, again. As they stopped to look behind them, they realized it was the Devout.</p><p>There was a surprising amount of survivors, all things considered. They were allowing them passage and blocking off certain paths; all of them staring in recognition of the ribbon, but not a single one said anything to them. The title ‘Weaverfriend’ echoed to them, as they thought of the Spider they had met so briefly.</p><p>They supposed that while it wasn't a typical charm, what they had received was a protective ward of a kind, after all.</p><p>Those of the spider tribe continued to guide them wordlessly; a rather large devout shuffled from the corner of their eye— and they stopped as they realized there was light coming from the end of a passage way.</p><p>As they used their hand to grasp the pathway, they found themselves in a very large room. There were a large amount of lit candles, and an empty plinth.</p><p>Hornet sat at the foot of it, seemingly unsurprised by their presence.</p><p>“So you’ve found me, Hollow Knight. Or were you brought here?” She said plainly, as she looked to them. They stared at her, in turn. “You need not stand there, and stare at me. … I just found myself wistful.”</p><p>They canted their head at that. Carefully, they walked forward, but remained a respectful distance away from their sister. They knew not of what this place was. They weren’t sure if they would have ever found it, if it weren’t for the devout— and at the very least, they could see that this place was deeply personal to Hornet, for whatever reason.</p><p>“This is my mother’s room.” Hornet answered. “This is where she was laid to rest.”</p><p>They lowered their head respectfully.</p><p>Hornet took a deep breath.</p><p>“… You know. I find it strange now that everything is over, I think of those days we spent in the Queen’s Gardens. Do you remember?” Hornet asked carefully, as the Hollow Knight held her gaze. She seemed wistful, as she sat on Herrah’s plinth.</p><p>They nodded, and she turned away.</p><p>“What days, those were. Back when my mother and the White Lady had tea together in the gardens. I remember those visits fondly; it was much more comforting to be there, compared to the monotony of the palace. Even then, I find myself thinking of the times I attempted to play with you while I was there. I used to ask you to wait on the balcony for a moment before finding me, to get you to play hide and seek. Thinking on it now, you let me win most times until I wanted to be found. … Or was I imagining it?”</p><p>They shook their head.</p><p>She seemed neither pleased, or disappointed with the answer.</p><p>“I see. Thinking of what happened just that time ago, I find myself wondering whether I should be saddened that you did not react to me back then, or vindicated that I was right about you all along. But I think I understand; that you could not give anything of yourself away while you were being watched, and scrutinized to maintain your emptiness.” She barked out a laugh. “I remember those instances where I used to be so demanding. How childish was I, then?”</p><p>Hornet’s tone was self-deprecatingly with palpable embarrassment, but shook her head. They simply watched her, and thought of those days back then.</p><p>She was much smaller back then; a spark of red in the midst of a green or white backdrop. A spritely thing, that was doted over by both Deepnest and Hallownest— a princess, and gift to both her mother, their father, and everyone that knew her.</p><p>On days that she visited, she used to demand their presence at all times, and would deliberately go searching for them. But Hornet’s assessment was entirely correct— She was scolded by many, for her demands. Their training had been interrupted so many times on her account; and in a way, they were thankful for it.</p><p>Pure Vessel they were, but they were also elder sibling to the Pale Gift. It became commonplace for them to attend to her because her tantrums would shake the walls of the castle, and she would go searching for them if not allowed their company. The Pale King thought her behavior would shift, but it didn’t.</p><p>Hornet’s obstinance outmatched his.</p><p>It was one of the few recorded instances where their father been completely and utterly defeated.</p><p>Days where the princess came to visit were no longer days they spent training with the Great Knights because she would attempt to involve herself. Instead, they became days where they were given education and she was allowed to study alongside them.</p><p>Their other memories were sporadic. They randomly remembered several instances where she used to implore them to hide her honey candies before their father could take them away from her— calling their void the best kind of pocket, before she’d tell them to keep one of the candies as thanks for being in cahoots with her.</p><p>They had savored every one of them.</p><p>The Pale Gift was a bundle of joy, truly.</p><p>“I wonder what you’re thinking of.” She murmured, and lulled them out of their memories.</p><p>If only Hornet knew.</p><p>“To be truthful, I find myself embittered as I think back. You not being empty meant my mother’s sacrifice…” She trailed off. “Did it have to happen at all?”</p><p>Hornet’s head dipped low, as she sat in the dim light. The Hollow Knight lowered their head out of apology. There it was; another reason to their failure.</p><p>“… That’s not to speak poorly of you or to blame you for her passing.” Hornet clarified, though she still couldn’t meet their gaze. “… Where do I even begin? Once you were sealed away, the Kingdom’s stasis lasted quite a while, even if you weren’t pure— which is a feat in itself, perhaps. But shortly after, the White Lady separated from the palace and withdrew her influence from all matters, leaving just the Pale King to tend to me. Things were well, for a time. We were all hopeful. But when the second outbreak occurred, Hallownest fell to ruin. I was kept in the Pale King’s care, but one day… father disappeared, along with the whole of the White Palace.”</p><p>She’d said that so solemnly that they almost didn’t want to believe it. They twitched at the thought, actually— why had the Pale King disappeared? <em>How?</em></p><p>“Yes; the Palace is gone, and the King of Hallownest disappeared without a trace. If you don’t believe me, we can visit the Palace Grounds— but I wouldn’t advise it.” Hornet said coolly, but winced to herself. She seemed resentful outwardly, as venom laced her every word— but something that the Hollow Knight couldn’t place betrayed her. “I could scarcely believe it myself.”</p><p>The Spiderling was trying not to give too much of herself away, they realized. It was a matter of pride on her part, not at all dissimilar to themselves. But perhaps, through that shared trait, even without void, they could only empathize with her more.</p><p>“… Without my mother or the Pale King, I was by myself for a long time. The Pale King, prior to his disappearance, asked me to protect the Kingdom from those who would defile it, and to guard the King’s Brand from usurpers.”</p><p>It was all the more surprising that she hadn’t slain their smallest sibling, in that regard. No wonder they voiced their thought to them as such last time— but supposing that, they were just thankful that hadn’t happened. She seemed fond of the little ghost.</p><p>“I did what I was told, the same as you.” Hornet said solemnly. “I thought I had to. If not, then… I couldn’t let the disappearance of my family to be for nothing—“</p><p>Her breath hitched, and her voice cracked as she realized what she said. Her voice became thick for a moment, but she shook her head.</p><p>She was too prideful to allow herself to cry openly.</p><p>“I— didn’t know what else I could do. What was I supposed to do? As the infection worsened, the bustle of cities, roads, everything— everything became quiet. I think… that was the worst part. How loud everything became, and how muted it all was after, as bugs succumbed to the infection. How little by little, nowhere became safe. How everything changed. How I killed and killed for survival and duty. And then… the ghost appeared to me.”</p><p>“I don’t know what it was exactly that led me to behave differently around the little ghost. When they were stalking me in Greenpath, I thought them strange. They chased after me like a lost child through the Fungal Wastes. They followed me to the City of Tears, and after I spoke there to them to gauge their intent, they spent a time standing outside your memorial and staring at your visage. A long time, at that.”</p><p>“… I wonder if that’s when my opinion of them began to change.” She confessed. “Unlike the vessels that came from the Abyss, the little ghost came from outside the Kingdom entirely— Them and that pillbug were both called here...” Hornet trailed off, as she dipped her head lower. “And that’s when I realized I was hearing a call of some kind, too.”</p><p>Hornet shook her head at the thought. As for the Hollow Knight, they found themselves wondering; this was the second time they’d heard something like this.</p><p>How odd.</p><p>But even then, there was something else entirely that caught their attention.</p><p>They realized a moment after that Hornet was looking at them to gauge their reaction; while they couldn’t offer words, they offered an understanding look— but also a questioning one.</p><p>She canted her head at then as she tried to percept their intent.</p><p>“… That's right. You wouldn’t be aware of it.” She realized, before backtracking somewhat. “The Pale King erected several monuments after your sealing. To the Dreamers, he made one in the Resting Grounds— but in the City of Tears, he fashioned a fountain in your image, in dedication to you. Are you surprised?”</p><p>They nodded slightly.</p><p>“I found it odd as well, considering you’d been expunged from history, and very few bugs knew of your existence at all.” She said, with a thinly-veiled bitterness. “Already thanks to him, no less.”</p><p>They nodded again. Yes, they were aware of that. Their father had kept them confined to the palace for the most part of their life as to make sure they stayed pure, by having as little experience with the outside world as possible. In that regard, they were more sheltered than Hornet in a number of ways— Especially by now. They had almost fallen prey to a Nosk because of it.</p><p>But what would their father stand to gain from making a monument to a failure? Surely his foresight would have told him that nothing would have changed.</p><p>They would have to reflect on it more some other time, however.</p><p>Hornet was speaking.</p><p>“You know— whatever happened in the Temple, I still don’t know it. I attacked you, and our sibling struck you with something. When I woke, the Black Egg had vanished completely, and all there was left was the little ghost’s mask, cracked in two. There was not even a trace of you left. I know I said it already, but I thought I had come to peace with never seeing you both again, but here you are. You still live.”</p><p>Hornet sighed quietly. Despite her only being a pace away, she seemed emotionally distant. When she was younger, she used to wear her heart on her sleeve, and cry openly. Another part of their failure was the fact she did not grow up unscathed and free of torment, like she deserved— but that wasn’t just their fault. Her heart had hardened at some point to cope with her abandonment, and she lost her innocence in exchange for solitude of a kind.</p><p>They looked on, as their memories blended together.</p><p>“I wonder why it is I’m telling this to you, Hollow Knight. Or rather, I wonder what it is that I’m trying to say?” She asked aloud, as she raised her gaze to meet theirs. “… I wonder what you would say to me, if you could speak.”</p><p>Many others spoke to them like this— as if they could give cohesive answers when put on the spot. If they could speak in the same way Hornet could, what would they do?</p><p>They pondered this briefly. They thought to ask more about the King’s disappearance, but it seemed she didn’t know any more than they did. Perhaps they would have commented on the fact she was still very hurt from the chain of events that led to this point— not just from the passing of Herrah and the disappearance of the Pale King, but even their own, and the Ghost of Hallownest’s.</p><p>Maybe they wanted to tell her more of the past occurrences in the White Palace, and things they were sure she didn’t remember— like how when she was small, they remembered that the Pale King would carry her everywhere when he could, or how when she threw tantrums, she used to scuttle around like a Weaver would. One time she covered their father’s bed in silk because she thought it would make it prettier. She used to crawl up high places, and demand for either the Pale King or the Hollow Knight come to get her down, because she trusted no one else to catch her.</p><p>They wondered if she remembered their gestures, to oblige her capriciousness— of doing almost anything she asked, while she used to go out of her way to fawn over them by reading aloud her storybooks to them.</p><p>Hornet was princess knight, protector of Hallownest. For a very long time, they realized, she had been dedicated to doing what their father left for her, as well— perhaps in the same way a child would in attempt to please their parents, or like how a drowning bug would cling to any kind of buoy to stay afloat in the middle of a storm. She was a creature of indelible pride and grace, who had grown up so fiercely. She was a perfect combination of Deepnest and Hallownest. Of Beast and Wyrm.</p><p>Yet, she was still so young, and that much fragile.</p><p>They had heard her, and they understood. They were quite familiar with both notions, but how could they get her to understand?</p><p>Delicately and slowly, they knelt down again. Once eye level with Hornet, they raised their hand, and gently placed it on her head again to comfort her.</p><p>She froze again like before— not because their touch was alien, but it seemed that it had been far too long since she had been shown affection of any kind. Her façade was coming apart at the seams.</p><p>Hornet choked out a sob, as she lowered her head.</p><p>“… You would tell me I finally did enough?”</p><p>They nodded.</p><p>“Should I not be the one telling that to you?” She asked, her voice thick with emotion.</p><p>If she wanted.</p><p>They were still figuring out their place in all this, but right now, Hornet’s feelings were of greater importance. It wasn’t a matter of who suffered the most, or what recompense they were owed for it. They were more than just their mask, just as she was more than her circumstance.</p><p>Life was cruel, they understood. None of them here were in control of the circumstances in which they were born into this world, but if they could dare to think it— they were alive all the same.</p><p>The Abyss was more comforting because it accepted everything, but it was all-encompassing. It offered a peaceful and numb darkness to the abandoned and weary.</p><p>But, even so—</p><p>
  <em>Even so—</em>
</p><p>“… I’m sorry.”</p><p>
  <em>What for?</em>
</p><p>They canted their head at her, despite knowing full well she couldn’t hear them. Her tears continued to well as they arced down her mask.</p><p>“It wasn’t for nothing, was it?”</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>They shook their head clearly.</p><p>They were sorry for their failure. They really were. But even if they succeeded in containing the infection, Herrah would have still been a Dreamer. She would not be dead, but what state would be a sleep without end?</p><p>If Herrah were still here, they felt that she would have agreed with them. She might have even scolded the Pale Gift harshly for thinking that. Herrah agreed to become a Dreamer explicitly because she wanted a child for the brood— which was far different of a circumstances compared to the hundreds upon thousands of siblings that rested in the Abyss.</p><p>They were only born for a purpose.</p><p>Hornet was born because she was wanted.</p><p>Whether the spawn of the White Lady and Pale King were wanted by either of them was up for debate, but there wasn’t a doubt in their mind that Herrah loved Hornet with all of her heart. She had wanted a child so badly that she consigned herself to eternal sleep. Even a being without a mind could comprehend that love— or was that the exact reason why it was all so incomprehensible?</p><p>The idea instilled— They imagined wanting something so badly that they’d choose to die for it. Why was it that they understood?</p><p>Was it because they wanted their father’s love?</p><p>Was that wrong, too?</p><p>Regardless of the answer, they caressed Hornet’s cheek. She leaned into their hand, clutching it tightly, as she wept. She cried, and cried until there were no more tears.</p><p>It wasn’t for nothing, no.</p><p>At least, they wanted to believe that none of it was in vain. If nothing else, they realized it now.</p><p>Hornet wouldn’t exist, otherwise.</p><p>They wished they could tell her that.</p><p>“… Let’s return before the little ghost wakes. They were running themselves ragged earlier in search of you. We both were.” Hornet sighed, as she rubbed her mask. “They seem to be fond of you, Hollow Knight. Perhaps that’s what made me change my opinion of them.”</p><p>It was affection ill-deserved, though. For everything they’d done, the little ghost was far too forgiving, and much too patient with them. Having been reared to be a lynchpin to an age, it was a wonder and a half that the ghost wanted them well, and just wanted them to be.</p><p>But perhaps, that was just the nature of void. After a time of warring lights and the rejection of moving forward, now was the time to open the door to the future more than just a crack, and no one knew what was on the other side of it. Though unseen, they could feel the wind pushing them in that direction.</p><p>Whether they could take that first step was entirely dependent on them.</p><p>But they nodded.</p><p>Without prompting, though they only had one arm now, the Hollow Knight went and scooped up Hornet to carry her. They had remembered that the Pale King and Herrah would do this to both of them and Hornet, when they were young. They had literally grown too big for it after a certain point, but their sister was still small in their eyes. While she wasn’t a hatchling like before, perhaps they felt it was necessary to pick her up and carry her to bed— but finally, <em>at last,</em> their nearly grotesque height was good for something.</p><p>She seemed taken aback initially, as she froze— but like the little ghost had after a moment, she settled down in the nook of their arm, like she would have if she were still a nymph. As if she were conceding her loss to their game of Hide and Seek.</p><p>Hornet leaned her head against their shoulder.</p><p>“Thank you for finding me, Hollow Knight.” She murmured tiredly. “I missed you.”</p><p>In response, they nuzzled her before they started the trek back.</p><p>Yes. They missed her, too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Soundlessly, despite the fact that they so badly wanted to scream. Maybe they were already screaming; they couldn’t tell.</p><p>They knew it was too good to be true. </p><p>It was all a dream. </p><p>---</p><p>TW: Attempted Suicide</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bold is the Knight, and Italics is our Pure Vessel.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a searing pain in their abdomen as they wanted to double over, and did so. Their remaining arm reached, but they felt apprehension when they saw a sickly, orange cyst fall out of them, and onto the pitch black floor.</p><p>They stared, as the realization hit them.</p><p>It burned. It startled them then, as they realized there was a cancerous cluster of them embedded into their right side. They knew this pain; this is how their right arm was eaten. It had rotted and decayed completely because of the Infection— and they were afraid.</p><p>They didn’t want to look because they knew what would be under their cloak. The infection pulsed with anger and a venom that made their void crawl. Their soul was screaming in protest, as their body rejected its infection; the void was attacking itself. They spasmed as they expelled a sickeningly sweet substance from their mouth—</p><p>It was orange. It was all orange. Their insides were stained with that grotesque color, and they were sure they could hear Her screaming from the back of their mind. It shook the foundation of their very soul, as they felt their mask— and the crack that had formed on it. There was a wetness coming from their mask’s eye holes.</p><p>Where were they? Where were they?</p><p>They looked around in a panic, as their emotions spiraled out of control.</p><p>This—this was the Black Egg. How were they on the ground? They were supposed to be chained up.</p><p>How? Why?</p><p>The pain was blinding them, as they staggered, and weakly looked around. How? Who let them down? It couldn’t have been—</p><p>The Hollow Knight stopped.</p><p>The answer was in front of them, in a crater.</p><p>A familiar mask was on the ground, broken in twain. Hornet’s lithe form was crumpled to the side, motionless.</p><p>They started hyperventilating.</p><p>Soundlessly, despite the fact that they so badly wanted to scream. Maybe they were already screaming; they couldn’t tell.</p><p>They knew it was too good to be true.</p><p>It was all a dream.</p><p>They weren’t conscious—they hadn’t been conscious as their body was puppeteered by its Infection. By Her. They would have known. They would have tried to stop themselves if they were awake. The Old Light was tormenting them by bringing them back to reality. For even letting them think they could be a shade of their former selves—</p><p>For giving them a dream where they could have lived.</p><p>It was cruel.</p><p>It was too cruel.</p><p>They would rather be dead than be given a dream like that. They would rather be gone, and stop thinking entirely than live with this reality.</p><p>They grasped their nail, though they could barely lift it. They gasped as they floundered, and struggled to stand. The Infection fell out of them in globs, staining the floor of the Black Egg. They lurched as they felt their strength leave them.</p><p>They lifted their nail up in defiance.</p><p>This act meant nothing— they knew it. It was pointless. They couldn’t kill a god this way, but what else could be done? They had failed their father. Their siblings, whom they had never met, were already dead. All was lost.  </p><p>Them dying would just mean her freedom—</p><p>But would it mean theirs, too?</p><p>They panted soundlessly for a few moments to brace themselves. Hesitance gripped at them, as they shook their head vehemently. It would all be over, they tried to comfort themselves.</p><p>They lunged—</p><p>“That’s quite enough of that.”</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The sound of a fingersnap froze everything in place.</p><p>Right before the nail pierced through their abdomen, there was a disjoint in reality. They were still conscious, but everything was frozen— and it dawned on them then.</p><p>The Black Egg had an odd, reddish-tint, that wasn’t supposed to be. Something that they couldn’t comprehend in the background was pulsing.</p><p>A strange, red essence, fluttered in their gaze, as it felt as if they were lifted out of a torrent of water. Unceremoniously, their surroundings had changed without giving them any reprieve whatsoever, as a new darkness fell over them. It was as if a curtain had been pulled, as lamps of fire burned one by one, offering a moody, melancholy light.</p><p>And they realized it.</p><p>An entity that they never knew was floating in front of them. The figure’s cape was swathed in red, with flames and embers flickering away from his form. In their hand, a rather large swath of flame burned, and they toyed with it casually.</p><p>“Your nightmares burn with a flame most fearsome indeed,” They— or he, rasped, as he trained his red eyes on them. “You were almost swallowed up entirely by the inferno. It makes for great nourishment and entertainment both, though it’s necessary that your dance not end prematurely.”</p><p>Saying that, the caped entity compressed the flame into a spark, and swallowed it whole.</p><p>Horrific.</p><p>First of all, who? Who was this?</p><p>What was any of this?</p><p>Were they dreaming?</p><p>“I would not have my domain be mistaken.” The figure intoned. “You were having a Nightmare.”</p><p>They stared. How—</p><p>How was this entity acting as if they could hear them?</p><p>“Because I can.”</p><p>Despite all the flame about them, the whisper of the nightmare being left them chilled.</p><p>“Ah, but of course. Where are my manners? We’ve not met, you and I— or shall I say <em>yet?”</em>  The being of Nightmares intoned. “It matters not. I find it better to curry favor with the God of Gods’ scion, lest we find ourselves smote for feeding further off the worm’s craft after already using them to prolong the heart of Grimm.”</p><p>So that was a real title. The God of Gods was real.</p><p>But, Grimm? Wyrm? How did he know their father? Was this… a higher being?</p><p>“It seems you have the sense to recognize it after all; but it’s only natural to possess it, having been vessel to the Old Light.” The Nightmare being— Grimm, simpered. “After all— If there is a goddess that rules over dreams, then it’s only natural there should be a king that presides over nightmares.”</p><p>That was all they needed to hear.</p><p>They drew their nail in challenge.</p><p>The Nightmare King took great amusement in the action, as he drew his hands out of his cloak, and clapped slowly.</p><p>“Oh, <em>defiant, </em>this one. She must have hated you, but I like that. <em>Marvelous.</em> Would you stake the heart of the nightmare itself? With your loyalty to dear Wyrm, I don’t doubt you would have upheaved our Ritual had you been around to play a part in it.”</p><p>The Hollow Knight stared. Were they being mocked?</p><p>“Surely not. I am not here to torment you as the Old Light would. The nightmare you were subjected to was of your own doing, not mine.” The Nightmare King wheezed out a wispy laugh. “Rather… I am here to repay a favor. If that should include fighting you to your heart’s content, it only serves to stoke the flame. Everything shall be illuminated in due time.”</p><p>With that said, the Nightmare King bowed with a certain level of eloquence.</p><p>“What say you?”</p><p>Their apprehension didn’t disappear. While they had their questions and reservations on this entire affair, whatever this creature was, it had vanished their nightmare. Out of respect, they stood their nail in front of them with their hand resting on the guard. In turn, the Hollow Knight bowed as well.</p><p>“… Excellent. Finally, one who understands the formality of a dance. Shall we waltz, my friend?”</p><p>The invitation was seamless, but it was immediately met.</p><p>In a flash, both the Nightmare King and the Hollow Knight clashed against each other; their nail against a swath of flame, that had jutted out from the ground to defend the Nightmare King from being slashed.</p><p>The Hollow Knight backpedaled, as a pillar of flame erupted beneath their feet— and Grimm teleported away.</p><p>Maybe it was foolish to issue a challenge or accept the dance invitation, but their adrenaline spurred them forward. A flash of red caught their eye as they noticed the Nightmare King diving towards them from the ceiling. They jumped, and made a round slash in an attempt to catch him, but all they hit was air as their quarry exploded into flame.</p><p>Grimm reappeared far from them, and flung his cape open— insect-shaped fire flew for them, and in turn, they dashed forward making three slashes headlong— the fire dispersing as they closed down on the Nightmare King.</p><p>They were too slow as they lunged into nothing.</p><p>Grimm had already vanished.</p><p>How frustrating.</p><p>“Why do you hold back, friend? Is this the depth of your passion?” Grimm goaded, their voice echoing through the chamber. With nail in hand, the Hollow Knight remained on the defensive as Grimm failed to reappear. “In the realm of Dream, your strength is only matched by the fortitude of your being. To have held back the Old Light for so long should mean that you were nothing short of magnificent.”</p><p>They fell far from grace.</p><p>“Or are you the only one who believes that?”</p><p>The Nightmare King reappeared on the opposite side of the chamber.</p><p>Towers of flame chased after the Hollow Knight’s every pace. As they caught up to the Entity of flame, and slashed, he teleported away with a whisper.</p><p>The phantom pains of the infection still ate at them, and they were barely swinging their nail properly. Still, as the Nightmare King came at them for a dive, they held up their nail and parried. They had thought they had struck the Nightmare King, but he had teleported again. It was a feint.</p><p>Without allowing them a moment to realize that, Grimm followed through, and struck them—they instinctually dug their nail into the ground to lessen the impact, but the blow sent them sliding, and forced them to take a knee.</p><p>Grimm appeared above them again, and gazed down dispassionately.</p><p>“Do you plan to let me take the lead the entire time? Otherwise, you may find yourself reduced to ashes before the dance is over.”</p><p>They were trying.</p><p>They were only a shade of their former self, after what the Infection did to them.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t ask for the impossible.</em>
</p><p>The Nightmare King scoffed.</p><p>“Did you not attempt it yourself?” Grimm asked, as pillars of fire erupted from the ground, and began to converge towards the Hollow Knight.</p><p>There was little reprieve as they found themselves burning. From afar, they could hear the disappointment in the Nightmare King’s voice.</p><p>“With that kind of thinking, it’s no small wonder the Wyrm failed.”</p><p>In that exact second, the Hollow Knight froze.</p><p>They had questions, to say in the least; but none of that mattered anymore.</p><p>Outrage painted the air as soul and void flared around the Hollow Knight, nullifying the encroaching flame around them as they shook with rage. They lurched, and craned their head upward.</p><p>It was a cry unlike any other— Though soundless, the air tore apart.</p><p>The Pure Vessel howled.</p><p>Their wounds knit together in a flourish as Soul exploded around them, orbs detonating across the stage as they assumed their favored stance. The Nightmare King found themselves pressed for time, as the Pure Vessel cleaved through the explosion within a blink of an eye.</p><p>Grimm exploded into flame this time, to evade. The moment he reformed, the Pure Vessel cast out their right hand—Soul daggers flew in an arc, and to counteract it, the Nightmare King retaliated with a swarm of flaming creatures. Dagger met flame, and both exploded into flashes of light and ember.</p><p>From the center of the arena, the Nightmare King emerged and dove—and this time, the Pure Vessel parried it—stopping Grimm mid-strike with a riposte. They understood then, why Grimm moved around the arena so frequently; he was a flame in appearance, power, and fragility.</p><p>If they struck him with more hits like that, he would extinguish.</p><p>The Nightmare King began to cackle as he appeared in the center of the stage. Was it out of delight? Was it because of the thrill of battle? They didn’t care.</p><p>There was a feeling of some kind that they couldn’t identify. It scorched their insides and left them with a single-minded determination—or emptiness, of a kind. Perhaps that’s what the Nightmare King wanted from them.</p><p>They still didn’t care.</p><p>As the Pure Vessel went to attack, they stopped mid-stride as they watched Grimm’s body contort, and swell in a shape similar to the pulsating mass in the audience. Flames began to burst out of Grimm en mass, scorching the ground beneath them and painting the air with fire. They realized that they had no choice but to weave through the flames, then—and so they did.</p><p>They danced.</p><p>With their nail held closely to their body, they waited for reprieve as they found themselves incapable of gauging an opening. After what seemed like a painstaking eternity, the onslaught stopped, as the Nightmare King vanished away.</p><p>They had the sense to feel the ground shift beneath them, as spike columns jutted out. To evade it entirely, they had leapt upward, and realized their mistake. Grimm appeared in an instant, and dove at them again. They were sent crashing to the floor—</p><p>This deterred them none, as they cast their arm out mid-fall, turning Grimm into a pincushion as he gave chase. Recoiling, as several daggers embedded themselves in him, he dispersed into a cloud of insects, and swarmed around the arena. The Pure Vessel got up, and readied themselves, as they all converged.</p><p>Once again, the Nightmare King appeared at the center of the arena. As it happened, the Pure Vessel leapt again, and stabbed their nail into the ground—</p><p>At their beckoning, soul pillars erupted—all of them angled in a perfect circle as they came to a singular point—at the Nightmare King’s head. Grimm froze.</p><p>However, none of them struck their mark, as the Pure Vessel held their nail in place. Rather than committing to the ending, they lifted their nail from the ground. As the pillars dispersed into minute, particles of pale light, the Pure Vessel held the Nightmare King at nail point.</p><p>“Masterful.”</p><p>As Grimm rasped it, he exploded into flame. Rather than teleport above them or behind them to strike them down, he reappeared a respectful distance away, cloak billowing.</p><p>Pillars of fire had erupted all around the arena, but Grimm made no motion to continue the fight further beyond this. They lowered their nail with its tip on the ground, and allowed their hand to rest on the hilt.</p><p>“The nature of this domain differs compared to yours, being of God and Void— but Flame and Shadow dance together so nicely.” Grimm intoned, as eyes met again. “Would you not agree?”</p><p>The Nightmare King bowed to them.</p><p>In a fluid motion, they reciprocated the action.</p><p>There was no applause, as one would have expected. There shouldn’t have been anyone else here, but them. And yet, as both Pure Vessel and Nightmare King raised their heads, something happened.</p><p>With the conclusion of their glorified dance, the flames produced by the fight was sucked into the gaping aortas of Nightmare Heart; it beat and pulsed, before quieting, and fading into darkness. It was then, they realized that eight, glowing eyes were looking down at them from the expanse of nothingness—from where they thought there was a ceiling.</p><p>It could have just been their imagination, however, as the moment they blinked, it wasn’t there anymore.</p><p>The backdrop, once again, had changed entirely into endlessly floating clouds, and expanse. All that was left was the enormous lantern’s light, themselves, and the Nightmare King.</p><p>“Do forgive me for speaking erroneously.” The Nightmare King commented. “Dear Wyrm raised you well.”</p><p>They accepted the apology.</p><p>However, they still felt relatively unsatisfied. Not with the conclusion of their dance, but for the fact that they had not received an introduction, from this apparent higher being that had invaded their mind.</p><p>“Did I not say? … We are a vessel, not unlike you.” He said, as he offered the Pure Vessel a wry grin. “In a long line of inheritance, you meet the previous Grimm, and what the Nightmare King received from him.”</p><p>
  <em>… A love for the theatric.</em>
</p><p>The Higher Beings they knew of were much different in that aspect, alone.</p><p>The Nightmare King barked out a laugh.</p><p>“Would you think me stern as worm, passive as root, or as frivolous as she?”</p><p>
  <em>In a different way, maybe.</em>
</p><p>“Oh, she most definitely hated you.” Grimm murmured, as his shoulders shook. “She preferred those who would come into her thrall and accept her in all her magnanimity. You do nothing of the sort. I rather like that.”</p><p>
  <em>You like to listen to yourself, don’t you. </em>
</p><p>“There are few sounds greater in this world.” Grimm said with doubtless confidence, as his cloak fluttered. The Pure Vessel was dumbfounded, in a way. “But enough about me. Your greed demands something more of me beyond dance and apology, but where to begin your explanation owed… regarding dream and nightmare.”</p><p>A wisp of red essence flickered in the Nightmare King’s hand.</p><p>“Dream and Nightmares exist on two sides of the same coin. Just as a Dream can be a blinding lie, a Nightmare is but a hurtful truth. Just because she has met her end does not mean the existence of dreams has disappeared; rather, it means she can be dreamt of no more, which is what the Lord of Shades set out to do.” Grimm intoned plainly, and factually. “Fitting end for her, however. To force a dream of herself upon others and be forgotten, while our Nightmare thrives.”</p><p>The Nightmare King was incredibly smug at his assertion. The Hollow Knight wasn’t aware of all the intricacies, but it seemed that Grimm was deeply familiar with the Old Light, enough to answer what would become of her and the Dream Realm. They understood enough. They agreed with it being a fitting end, ultimately.</p><p>They didn’t know if they had the capacity to hate, but they might have hated her.</p><p>“Hate is a strong word.”</p><p>She was the reason why they didn’t have an arm and for a majority of their phantom pains. At that thought apparent, their visage of Pure Vessel melted away, but they were no longer the sickly, infected Hollow Knight, either.</p><p>They stood with their remaining arm still resting on their nail, bearing their current appearance as they thought of themselves. They didn’t notice the change, nor did they care for it.</p><p>The Nightmare King took brief amusement, as they continued.</p><p>Discounting themselves, the Old Light was also responsible for unleashing a plague that decimated and afflicted several populations.</p><p>“Conversely, was it not the Wyrm’s fault for imposing himself on a territory that wasn’t his?”</p><p>Counterpoint—the bugs chose their father over her. Having been infected themselves, they KNEW full well what the implications of what the ancient sickness did to bugs. She forced her will on others so that they would mindlessly serve her and her alone. She would give them sweet dreams under the pretense that they needn’t hope for anything more. She could give unimaginable power at the cost of one yielding their entire being to her. She killed anything that didn’t suit her needs.</p><p>
  <em>She was already a plague.</em>
</p><p>“I don’t disagree with you, nor do I defend her actions. Her wrath, to some extent, was justified. That does not excuse what she did, though if I may—” The Nightmare King said, as he raised a hand—seemingly hiding a cruel smile, as he gestured to the Hollow Knight. “If anything, I find your vehemence towards this subject largely amusing, and incredibly ironic. You sound like dear Wyrm—but that <em>does</em> make sense. Children do take after their parents, in one regard or another, do they not? Why, I could only take delight if my dear child resembled me as much, if they were grown.”</p><p>The Hollow Knight seethed.</p><p>“You inherited a feud, friend. Of course, it wasn’t just dear Wyrm’s ire, but suppose it was the Void’s too. Needless to say, she shouldn’t have overstepped.” Grimm laughed derisively.</p><p>How much did the Nightmare King know?</p><p>A wide smile stretched on the Nightmare King’s visage.</p><p>“Everything.” He answered. “Though your hatred of her is warranted, while it’s not what you would like to acknowledge, perhaps you could understand her position better than anyone.”</p><p>They didn’t want to understand.</p><p>“Oh, but I think you already do.” Grimm spoke, with a hint of assuming, yet poignant malice. “Were you also not cast aside by dear Wyrm for the prosperity of a nation that would let you suffer eternally? Regardless of the effects of the Old Light, she, too, was abandoned by her breed, who sought higher thought. The Moth Tribe paid the price with their creator. A tragic thing, truly.”</p><p>They froze.</p><p>“It is a different story, to be true. It would be the opposite of yours, in fact.” The Nightmare King said pointedly, as he stood up straighter. “Yet, both creator and child were cast away. You both aren’t that much different. Perhaps that’s how you could contain her at all.”</p><p>The statement struck them.</p><p>It was a chilling thought. If that was the only condition that was necessary, then all of those lives condemned to the Abyss were for nothing. On top of being not pure, like their father wanted, if it could have been any one of the vessels, how different would things be?</p><p>They tightened their grip on their nail, and lowered their head.</p><p>
  <em>Why did any of this have to happen?</em>
</p><p>“Who can say. What’s done is done, and there is a distinctive truth to this tragedy— aside from it being a nightmare to all who lived through it.”</p><p>The Nightmare King turned their back to the Pure Vessel.</p><p>“Nightmares are hurtful truths, at their core. Though you revere and honor your father, dear Wyrm forsook how many of your breed in the Abyss? His own children. It makes our ritual look soft-hearted by comparison, though we play our parts in perpetuation by burning ourselves for our child.” Grimm tsked, and simpered with a cant of his head. “Lights play such dangerous games, friend. He was just as ready to let you be forgotten with the Old Light, and prosper eternally upon the remains of you and your breed. Is that not so?”</p><p>They considered it.</p><p>They knew it from the very start, rather.</p><p>That had been the reason for their birth.</p><p>They were to be the Pure Vessel that could seal away the infection. Their existence was a means to guarantee that Hallownest would last eternal, and the Pale King let an untold number of siblings die in search of a hollow child. And even then—they hadn’t been empty, like their father wanted.</p><p>Would the Pale King have them forgotten?</p><p>They shook their head to assert themselves.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>They shook their head again.</p><p>
  <em>He could have. But he didn’t.</em>
</p><p>There was a statue made as a testament to them in the City of Tears; the heart of Hallownest. They hadn’t seen it, but they didn’t believe that Hornet would lie to them about it. Why even leave a tablet at the front of the Abyss about the means of their ascendance, or even mention the “refuse and regret” of their creation? Why would they even be exalted at all?</p><p>The Hollow Knight lowered their head.</p><p>The Nightmare King was right. They would defend their father to some extent, but they weren’t blind. They knew better. The Pale King had done horrible things, summarized as so—</p><p>
  <strong> <em>No cost too great.</em> </strong>
</p><p>It had been a damning curse that the Pale King cast upon himself, and his progeny. Or was it a mantra of a desperate bug?</p><p>The Pale King was, in many respects, not at all dissimilar to the Radiance. Perhaps it just went to show that Higher Beings were capable of both awe and horror. But in their memory, they also remembered that the King was a recluse and while he received worship through totems fashioned in his image, he rarely ever made personal appearances.</p><p>His appearance brought to bugs the gift of higher thought and all the realizations, complications, and anxieties of living. He had spent much time tirelessly caring for his people, and trying to improve the quality of their lives and yet…</p><p>The Kingdom had fallen.</p><p>Where was the Pale King now?</p><p>Hornet said he had disappeared.</p><p>They hadn’t ascertained that yet, but there was something strange about the whole situation, as they thought of it.</p><p>It had been bothering them for a while.</p><p>
  <em>I see your intent now, Nightmare King.</em>
</p><p>“Do you?”</p><p>
  <em>Yes.</em>
</p><p>They raised their head. The Nightmare King canted his head in turn, but he looked more amused, than anything else.</p><p>“Would you hate her still?” Grimm questioned.</p><p>
  <em>I could. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I loathe to admit it, though abandoned, she and I— <strong>we</strong> didn’t want to be forgotten. Not by those whom we loved. That I understand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>… But there is a difference.</em>
</p><p>“And what would that be?”</p><p>
  <em>The Pale King couldn’t bring himself to forget.</em>
</p><p>And they couldn’t, either.</p><p>The Nightmare King didn’t acknowledge their assertion, but they had been heard all the same.</p><p>“Tragedies are often most ironic and brought about by the short-sighted. Neither goddess or children fashioned in her image continue to exist, but dear Wyrm must have done something right if he left behind something after all.”</p><p>
  <em>Hallownest has no heirs. </em>
</p><p>“Should it need it so? Ashes of a kingdom make good fallow for what is to come next. It need not be Hallownest. … Unless you should want it, friend.”</p><p>Grimm craned his neck as he offered the question, and this time, the Hollow Knight shook their head.</p><p>
  <em>I don’t know. </em>
</p><p>“Then be content with that until you are content no more. There comes a point when children learn to stand out of their parents’ shadows; we can only hope our child will step into their own before fulfilling their own role.”</p><p>
  <em>Why do you say that?</em>
</p><p>“What sort of parent would I be if I did not wish my own child well?” The Nightmare King said, as he took offense. “No longer is there time to dance and teach, however. Here in the wings, we may only act as witness. You still have the luxury yet of having a place in the waking world. Or do you fear it?”</p><p>The Hollow Knight didn’t answer.</p><p>Grimm simply stared at them, before he cast his red gaze away— as if he were looking at something that the Hollow Knight couldn’t see.</p><p>“In being an outsider and spectator to the play at hand, stories like these, however senseless, still have truth to them.”</p><p>
  <em>And what do you take away from all this, Nightmare King?</em>
</p><p>“We could tell you, but I think I won’t.” Grimm answered smugly. The Hollow Knight’s minute exasperation painted the air, but they weren’t disappointed. Rather, they expected it.</p><p>Instead, they stood for a time, thinking of their father.</p><p>“The play is over now, though, friend.” Grimm vocalized. “You need not linger for your role in a previous act, when you’re already received a starring role in the next.”</p><p>
  <em>Easy for you to say. </em>
</p><p>They hadn’t even wanted this.</p><p>“Still being dishonest?” Grimm tutted. “Your nightmare begs to differ, and until you come to peace with it, it will continue to scorch you. Why, friend— you might not even be as lucky next time.”</p><p>They didn’t understand that. The Nightmare King shrugged, and wheezed out another wispy, knowing laugh.</p><p>“You felt fear, did you not?”</p><p>
  <em>… Yes. What of it?</em>
</p><p>“Then there is hope for you yet.” The Nightmare King said, as he raised his arm out of his cloak. “A dream can be a lie others chose to live, but there is bravery granted in the act. In excess, one may be blinded to their own mortality, but you have already long awoken from that dream. A nightmare gives way to fear and dread, and will cripple the lowly— but what better strength is gained when it is kindle burned? To feel fear means that you still yet live.”</p><p>Grimm hissed, as his scarlet eyes creased with a smile.</p><p>“And that in itself is precious, is it not?”</p><p>The last thing the Hollow Knight heard was a snap of fingers.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They awoke, tightly bound to the floor at an awkward angle. Their nail was on the other side of the room, strung up in silk. There were three things they registered immediately—</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest had their face pressed to their abdomen, their thoughts spilling out of them in a stream of consciousness that they could not comprehend from the sheer volume of their distress. If they didn’t have a shell, they would have filled the entire room with void.</p><p>Hornet was standing up, panting, as her dress flared. Strands of silk covered the whole of the room as she looked considerably winded.</p><p>There was a third creature in the room, perched on the Ghost of Hallownest’s head. It looked like a larva of some kind, though it flapped its black wings innocuously. Its red eyes were trained on them, as if staring into their very soul.</p><p>Whatever this creature was, it bore an uncanny to the King of Nightmares.</p><p>But with their recognition, the creature’s red eyes crinkled with a coy smile, as they mewed.</p><p>They blinked slowly as the questions started.</p><p>What was that.</p><p>… Why were they bound?</p><p>Why were they hurting?</p><p>Why were their siblings looking at them like that? The sheer amount of pressure in the room made them feel more uncomfortable than their actual position of being bound in a cocoon.</p><p>“… Hollow Knight. … Are you awake now?” Hornet answered, her voice strained.</p><p>They nodded.</p><p>“… You were having a nightmare.”</p><p>They understood that part. But why was everything in shambles like this? As they stared at Hornet for the answer due to the little ghost’s incomprehensible emotional state, she winced.</p><p>“You tried to kill yourself.”</p><p>They stared uncomprehendingly, before it clicked. A hurtful truth.</p><p>So when they picked up their nail in the dream, that meant…</p><p>
  <em>How long was I asleep?</em>
</p><p>The little ghost started, after.</p><p><strong>I don’t know. I don’t </strong><strong><em>know.</em></strong> The Ghost lamented. They finally managed to convey something, without lifting their head away from them. They had the feeling that they were crying, given the amount of sadness that was painting the air.</p><p>They felt guilty for it.</p><p>
  <strong>You didn’t sleep for this long at the Void Sea.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Sister and I thought it was because you were tired. You got attacked by a Nosk, so it was okay to rest. That was okay. I was going to wait for you to wake up. We took turns checking on you.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I was resting, when you knocked me off the plinth. I thought you had woken.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>But then you took up your nail—</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You—</strong>
</p><p>Their small sibling’s thoughts spiraled into incoherency again as they bunched up strands of silk in their hands, and pressed their face down. Mental images came to them; the sight of them turning their nail against themselves overlapped with their actions in the Black Egg. However, this time, they didn’t have an enraged goddess to keep them alive even if they had succeeded.</p><p>Their sibling kept their face planted on their chest as the nightmare child cooed to them consolingly. Once Hornet got her bearings, she stood back up, shakily.</p><p>“The little ghost attacked you to make you stop. If you’re hurting, I would ask you not to hold it against them. They woke me at the same time and… the rest needs no explanation, does it?” Hornet said wearily, as she shook her head.</p><p>It didn’t. Hornet’s condition and the silk bindings spoke for itself.</p><p>They mustered what strength they had to sit up. The little ghost let go of them and watched them as they did, hands reached out as if to catch them in the event they were to fall. The nightmare child perched itself on the ghost’s head, watching.</p><p>The moment they managed sitting upright, they hunched over, and bowed their head in apology.</p><p>“… You don’t need to be sorry.” Hornet managed, as she finally caught her breath. Her tiredness radiated off of her in waves. With the amount of silk that the room was covered in, she must have panicked. “Just— don’t do that. Don’t. Don’t ever do that again. Do you understand me, Hollow Knight?”</p><p>They kept their head bowed and ran the logistics of that request, as Hornet sighed, and set herself beside them to undo their bindings. The Ghost of Hallownest faceplanted into their lap again, prompting them to pat their back comfortingly. They would sleep without their nail, next time. Once the Ghost was quelled, and lifted their head some after being consoled, they switched their target to Hornet.</p><p>She grumbled, but accepted.</p><p>They offered their wordless apology again, as they stroked the top of her head. The Ghost, seemingly jealous, butted them with their head.</p><p>
  <strong>Me too. </strong>
</p><p>But how? They didn’t have a second arm.</p><p>As they tried to puzzle the logistics of how they could show affection to both of their small siblings at the same time, the ghost stared.</p><p>The Ghost stared, before they reached out, and hugged their large sibling. They couldn’t even wrap their arms around them, but they continued to do so in a visual effort to <em>show</em> the Hollow Knight what they were capable of. They urged them to try it.</p><p>Awkwardly, but well-intending, the Hollow Knight copied the gesture, as they pulled both of their siblings into an embrace. Hornet protested vaguely, but leaned into them, and hugged them back. They held on for a moment before lowering their arm as to not make either the ghost or the pale gift uncomfortable. The fact that they had done it, despite wanting it, also left them with a mix of emotions that they couldn’t parse, as the fear of seeing the two of them dead twinged in their chest.</p><p>It made them more appreciative that their siblings were alive, and that they were too.   </p><p>However, they would keep that to themselves. They had a feeling their siblings might have felt the same, regardless.</p><p>But on that single note, the Hollow Knight found themselves in need to address the proverbial elephant bug in the room— or the Nightmare creature that was flapping about them, now.</p><p>
  <em>Who is that?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>That’s Grimmchild. </strong>
</p><p>That answered everything and nothing at the same time.</p><p>They repeated the question, with insistence.</p><p>
  <em>Who?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Grimmchild. They kept me company while I waited for you. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>They’re my friend. </strong>
</p><p>They echoed ambivalence as they stared at the creature. Their gaze was met with another unassuming mewl, as the Grimmchild looked on with their red eyes. The Hollow Knight stared, as a certain feeling of distrust tinged their gaze. There was something about this situation that made their insides roil, and they weren’t sure entirely what to think.</p><p>
  <em>Grimm… child. </em>
</p><p>They squinted.</p><p>Grimmchild spat a spark of flame at them in response.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The little ghost was endlessly curious and impossibly considerate. Childish, small, but mature and knowing. Simple, but incomprehensible.</p><p>They were also much like their Father, without having ever met him.</p><p>They could never convey that, however. The comparison was not worth sharing, even if they meant it in a kindly way.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They hadn’t fallen asleep after that debacle. They pretended they had, rather— they were quite certain that neither sibling noticed. They were a good actor, if anything. There were a multitude of reasons why they couldn’t allow sleep to take them again, though the most poignant one is that they couldn’t stop thinking.</p><p>They thought about their small sibling.</p><p>They thought about what the Mask Maker said about vessels and the nature of void.</p><p>They thought about what that Weaver said when she’d spoken of loneliness.</p><p>They thought about what Hornet said when she was reminiscing of their shared past.</p><p>They thought about what the Nightmare King had said about fear and moving forward.</p><p>Grimmchild, as they learned, was still a threat in their eyes to a relative degree. The Hollow Knight didn’t know if the little ghost was aware of it, but the Grimmchild was a vessel to a Higher Being. The image of that grotesque, malformed heart came to mind.</p><p>They had the information before, but no context prior, but Grimm had said many things. They had reason to believe that the child wasn’t Grimm, however, with how earnestly he expressed his desire to see his child succeed.</p><p>They wondered if the Pale King thought of something similar.</p><p>As much as they would have preferred to forget the contents of that nightmare, it lingered in phantom images— a scene that never was. A scene that they didn’t want to be real.</p><p>How odd, they found, that they were wanting things. That they were wanting of things with higher frequency— not needs or doing things out of necessity, but desiring things for themselves.</p><p>The first time may have been a memory. Where the Pale King stood beside them and looked at them kindly.</p><p>Maybe that was the first time they realized they wanted their father’s love. … But if not love, approval would do.</p><p>From where they sat, with nail resting it’s point in the ground, and hand resting over the guard, they finally moved. They brushed away their cloak and looked at the stump of their right arm. It was permanently gone, they reminded themselves. And with it— it seemed that they couldn’t manifest soul properly without it.</p><p>But it wasn’t as if they were entirely incapable.</p><p>They had managed it twice— Once before against the Nosk, and it happened again in their dance with the Nightmare King. They were capable of manifesting soul daggers and pillars in the latter. When they focused on both instances, they shattered the very air around them. At present, it seemed, they couldn’t muster enough soul to do anything outside of knitting together lesser wounds, and they doubted their ability to make a soul construct of any kind. Exhaustion to them then, hadn’t registered; maybe they had become desensitized to pain?</p><p>If the Mask Maker likened them to a container, perhaps even with a new mask, the crack in their shade was still there. Funny, though— their shade had both arms, and they didn’t.</p><p>The inconsistency itself between their shade and carapace wasn’t the main concern, however. The conclusion they came to was enough to settle on, though they had no way to convey it to Hornet.</p><p>It seemed like their soul capacity had been severely diminished. The Old Light had irreparably damaged the very void of their being. It made sense to them, that that spent all that time sleeping to recover from the strain of using their abilities. Such a thing never happened before in the White Palace, during those painstaking early days of their life, but back then, they were a Pure Vessel.</p><p>Of soul, and void…</p><p>If they were to liken themselves to a container, perhaps that there was a leak somewhere. A crack that made them incapable of having more than what remained of them. Maybe they were still broken.</p><p>How pitiable.</p><p>But were they?</p><p>Of course, they mentally chided themselves for that, too. The Nightmare King had been adamant on pressing their buttons, and the statement came to haunt them again— maybe they were the only one who believed that. After all, living, it felt like, was a mercy they had been granted against all logic. They least they could do was not trouble their siblings.</p><p>It felt like enough of a true assertion to not want to hope for anything more. </p><p>Even if they wanted it to be so.</p><p>They slipped into a slouch, as they lowered their head.</p><p>In a way, they were thankful that they were alone.</p><p>They had always been relatively meticulous about appearances, and kept their thoughts confined and under as many wraps as they could, but with the presence of their Void-hearted sibling and Hornet, their sense of expressiveness had improved considerably. Rather, maybe they always had the capacity to be something, outside of their desperation to maintain their purity like their father hoped for.</p><p>But that didn’t matter today, because neither Hornet or the little ghost were present. The skittering of the Devout would peter in and out of the corridor, as they suspected that Hornet had asked them to keep watch over them.</p><p>None would go near them, however. Whether that was due to the Weaver’s ribbon or not, was up for debate.</p><p>Hornet had gone hunting alone on principle that they would only slow her down due to their disadvantage at navigating through Deepnest. They took no offense to it, and Hornet in particular was worried over their condition, still. On the other hand, the Ghost of Hallownest and nightmare child had left on some kind of errand.</p><p>Their sibling would not say what it was. They had only been asked to wait for them to come back.</p><p><em>Asked,</em> not ordered.</p><p>It felt like a foreign thing.</p><p>Since coming back, it was the first instance in recallable memory that they had been left to their own devices; but they understood. Hornet was a number of things, and needed more sustenance than just raw Soul alone to function. The little ghost seemed to have an enormous capacity for it, which made sense. It was a rationale for their boundless energy, but maybe they were just always like that. Soulful, and not empty. Their smallest, stubborn sibling.</p><p>Maybe it was incorrect to call it ‘stubbornness’, more that the little ghost had the tenacity to keep trying again at something. They wondered if that was something all vessels had in common, but Hornet held a non-literal shade of that.</p><p>Perhaps their family was just stubborn.</p><p>Who had they inherited that from, they wondered?</p><p>They took solace at the thought of their common parent, who had worked tirelessly to contain the infection.</p><p>But then again— the Pale King was no longer here. He had failed.</p><p>He abandoned his kingdom. That's what everyone thought.</p><p>That seemed to be the most logical approach to this situation, but a number of things didn’t sit well with them.</p><p>The Monarch Wings on their siblings’ back were the same wings they had seen often times in their youth. How had they come in possession of it?</p><p>The Pale King told Hornet to protect the King’s Brand from usurpers, but why leave it for anyone to find if Hallownest had no heirs?</p><p>The beacon of higher thought— how could it still exist if the King and his pale light was no more?</p><p>And lastly, the call both the little ghost and Hornet mentioned.</p><p>They wondered… could they hear it too?</p><p>As they stopped, and raised their head slightly to strain their ears for some kind of sign, there was nothing of the sort. Just the cobwebs, the plinth they sat upon, and the dark ambience of Deepnest, reminding them that they were far from home, and alone. Unable to sleep, and asked to wait for their siblings to return. They were a Knight without a lord or purpose.</p><p>What else could they be?</p><p>They weren’t sure if they were the Hollow Knight still, and no longer were they they Pure Vessel.</p><p>The Pure Vessel they were raised as, had two arms and no tarnish; they were raised to prime form as the King’s shadow, but there was no King, and little left of Hallownest for them to serve.</p><p>The Hollow Knight, though broken, and ultimately a failure, held on for as long as possible when it came to achieving an impossible task. It was the role of a sacrifice, that did not meet their end.</p><p>As they pictured these two forms of themselves standing before them, one haggard, and the other pristine, which would they be?</p><p>And they, as they were now…</p><p>If not even a Knight, in comparison to their small sibling…</p><p>… What were they supposed to be?</p><p>They had been aware of it since the very start— they had outlived their purpose, and the kingdom they were supposed to die for.</p><p>As they were now, they were still broken. No longer were they in their prime. The desperate mantra of their father lingered on in memory, though they had broken all of those rules since their rescue— but that was incorrect. It went earlier than that. Their first mistake was wanting, they reminded themselves— When they found themselves wanting more.</p><p>Maybe that’s why dreams were dangerous.</p><p>It was a dream of theirs that their father could love them as they adored him. It made them think about what they could do, what they would never speak of to anyone, and hope for more.</p><p>Maybe in another place or time, a dream like that wouldn’t have been such a terrible, damning thing.</p><p>Perhaps that’s why Grimm had to point out their commonality with the Old Light. She didn’t want to be forgotten. They didn’t want that, either.</p><p>They were glad the ghost wasn’t around to hear their thoughts. With them thinking this loudly, there was no chance for them to be left by themselves, and then, the little ghost would begin their endless stream of questions and feelings of a size that seemed to large to be contained inside them. But perhaps that’s why it all spilled out, regardless.</p><p>The little ghost was endlessly curious and impossibly considerate. Childish, small, but mature and knowing. Simple, but incomprehensible.</p><p>They were also much like their Father, without having ever met him.</p><p>They could never convey that, however. The comparison was not worth sharing, even if they meant it in a kindly way.</p><p>The one thing that stood out to them on its own, however, was the ghost’s constant expression of not wanting to be left behind.</p><p>That, perhaps, is what made them most different from the Pale King, who took solace in solitude.</p><p>And… themselves?</p><p>They weren’t sure if they liked or disliked being alone. Their nightmare, they rationalized, was a fear of losing what they had now. But such arrangements like these couldn’t be permanent. They knew better than anyone that things didn’t last forever, but what would happen then?</p><p>They never had time to think of the future before. Grimm said to be content, until they could be content no more; but what did it mean to be content? Was contentment, 'happiness'? Was contentment, 'peace'? They didn't know it.</p><p>Identifying their own emotions was a invigorating, but strange and foreign feeling. It’s not as if they were searching for anything in particular. They didn’t even know what they would do from this point onward.</p><p>They had loved their father, not Hallownest. They weren’t even sure if they father loved Hallownest, but maybe he had. Maybe that’s why there was no cost too great. But if there was something here worth protecting for all this time, and something that made the Ghost of Hallownest return here and take their place as its savior, they wondered—what would it be?</p><p>Where did they fit into all this?</p><p>Perhaps now that they had freedom, they could go see these things for themselves… but they had no idea where to start. Being sheltered from the world preserved their innocence, if nothing else. Maybe if they went outside, they would hear the calling that beckoned their siblings so. Maybe they could even find solace in it.</p><p>…</p><p>Yes. They would ask a question to the Ghost of Hallownest when they returned.</p><p>But for now, all they could do for the time being was wait.</p><p>And wait, they would.</p><p>They were good at that.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nonetheless, the centipede-like Spider, or Spider-like centipede continued cooing.</p><p>“Why, yes. It’s been so very long since your last visit, heehee. Ahh, it was only once you came to Deepnest— and what a precious thing it was. How you’ve grown, though you’re lacking meat, I see...”</p><p>Unnerving.</p><p>--- </p><p>The Hollow Knight feels, and struggles with an emptiness of a kind.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If they had fallen asleep, it had been light, and more like a trance as they waited. In this state, they sat vigil on the plinth with nail in the ground in front of them, and hand still on the guard—ready to raise it at any given point should their nightmare return to them.</p><p>But in hindsight, perhaps that would be the exact opposite of what their siblings wanted.</p><p>They weren’t to sleep with their nail anymore—but did this count when they had no intention of sleeping?</p><p>Even with Grimm’s reassurance that the Old Light could be dreamt of no more, they didn’t wish for it.</p><p>They didn’t want to sleep.</p><p>…</p><p>They waited.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In and out, they could hear the sound of scuttling. The chirping and clicking of the Devout had become seamless white noise as they lowered their head and waited. Faintly they might have been lulled into a moment’s rest despite their intent to remain vigil. They couldn’t relax, though a certain dizziness gnawed at their very being. Their void, as empty as it already was, felt more hollow than usual.</p><p>Their thoughts blurred together as the many things that they were slowly filling themselves with left them with a sense of emptiness. Eventually, their thoughts, as loud and silent as they always were, were replaced with questions.</p><p>Their hand slipped slightly as they lowered their head further.</p><p>They wondered when their siblings would come back.</p><p>As the thought crossed their mind, they heard a different sound approaching. It was unlike the scuttling of the passerby and the light-footed weaverlings that made their home in the Beast’s Den.</p><p>... It was much different than the Devout. There was more weight, which immediately set them on edge. They gripped their nail tightly, as a mask of four eyes and a painted smile peered at them from the archway.</p><p>“Oh, dear me. Dear, dear me.” The bug cooed, as they edged closer, with their many legs skittering, before they held themselves higher. “I come to check on whom the Gendered Child has found within her protectorate, to find that the whispering of the brood were true— A large Hallownest Bug in our midst, one who bears a mark of relationship yet holds their nail so staunchly. But it’s not just any Hallownest bug, oh no. No, no no.” The large bug fawned, before looking at them up and down. There was a note of recognition in her voice. “It would include the Hollow Knight. A thing who I thought would never see again, much like our dear Beast. How delighted we could meet again, dear.”</p><p>They did not lower their nail, but they looked at her in acknowledgement.  </p><p>“Dear, would you think so poorly of our hospitality?”</p><p>They didn’t ease.</p><p>“So cold! I remember you well, my dear. Heehee.” She crooned to them, and tapped the first sets of her legs together. “Such a long time ago when you still had the look of the brazen one. Would you know of them—ahh, no matter. When I first saw them they reminded me right of you. Small then, but not nearly as audacious. Always following the Pale One, three paces away. A blank look about you, always focused on something we couldn’t see with our many eyes. Ahhh, such a cute thing you were. I could have eaten you right up.”</p><p>They canted their head at her fawning, not understanding if she meant that harmlessly or as a threat.</p><p>They didn’t remember her. If they had met in the ages before, this bug’s name escaped them. They didn’t remember seeing her in the Queen’s Gardens during Hornet’s visits, though the sound of her voice was vaguely familiar.</p><p>Nonetheless, the centipede-like Spider, or Spider-like centipede continued cooing.</p><p>“Why, yes. It’s been so very long since your last visit, heehee. Ahh, it was only once you came to Deepnest— and what a precious thing it was. How you’ve grown, though you’re lacking meat, I see...”</p><p>Unnerving.</p><p>As they stared at the large bug, with nail still in hand, she seemed to catch herself.</p><p>“My, my. Silly me, for getting distracted, heehee. Now that I have a good look at you, dear, now grown, you have have a face too sweet to be reminiscent of the Pale One.” The big centipede crooned, and in response to the mention of their other parent, they only stared. “Remarkable how the Gendered Child takes great resemblance to your kin, though none of our brood would deny her heritage. Certainly not, no, no.”</p><p>That didn’t seem quite right. They gave no opinions on what their appearance held (outside of being secretly fond of their face and very self-conscious of their lack of their right arm), but it gave them pause to hear the little ghost mentioned and referred to as their kin.  But should they even be surprised at this point, they wondered? Rather, they wondered if it was that obvious. In regards to Hornet, their sister took after the Pale King in stature, perhaps, but she bore a great resemblance to Herrah. The shape of her horns were exactly the same.</p><p>As for their resemblance to the White Lady… that, they weren’t sure of. Her name was something that hadn’t been spoken yet, and they weren’t even sure if she still lived. She was a Higher Being, and those were difficult to extinguish— but as they searched their memory, they recalled that Hornet had said that she withdrew from the White Palace.</p><p>They wondered vaguely of her.</p><p>Was she well?</p><p>They lowered their head slightly.</p><p>“Do you question it?” The centipede asked, as she misunderstood their silence. They shook their head in response, restoring whatever confidence— or smugness, that she had. “Ah, wise you are. With her homecoming, our morale is strong; the Gendered Child’s happiness is our own.”</p><p>They canted their head at that. The centipede bobbled, as she attempted to puzzle the Hollow Knight’s confusion.</p><p>“Ahhh, you seem confused, dear. Pray tell, why would that be? Could you be surprised we would care for the Gendered Child yet?”</p><p>No. That was a given.</p><p>The Spider Tribe would honor Herrah’s sacrifice, come hell or high water. She was their princess, regardless of how much she took after the Pale King and not Herrah.</p><p>They asserted this by shaking their head once.</p><p>The Centipede hummed to herself.</p><p>“Ah, what it could be then? Her happiness being our own?”</p><p>They nodded.</p><p>“Why would that not be so?” The centipede tittered— her laugh was different compared to the Weaver’s bell-like giggle, or Grimm’s rasp. It gave them the feeling of touching heavy brocade. It was dulcet, but not overly saccharine— but still not disarming enough to lower their guard.</p><p>They stared at her.</p><p>“Goodness, just what were you taught? Happiness is a rare thing, dear. A thing that only lasts a moment— like eating a particularly lovely morsel, heehee. Rare and fleeting, and her birth by far is the greatest treasure of the Nest. As for the cost— ahh, you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”</p><p>They lowered their head, but nodded again. They knew, yes.</p><p>“She cost dearly, but she still is our happiness.” The centipede crooned, with her fleeting laugh. “How does that surprise you so?”</p><p>They stared. They didn’t have a way of answering, and nothing they could do at this moment would be as convenient as conveying their thoughts to small sibling or Grimm. If nothing else, they wanted to keep their thoughts private in the company of this very busy centipede.</p><p>She seemed to attempt to puzzle their intent.</p><p>“Hmm. Hmm, hmm~” The centipede drew closer. Her painted mask trained on them, though she stayed closer to the doorway than to where they stayed station on the plinth. “So it would not be surprise. Still you focus on our happiness?"</p><p>Silence.</p><p>"Or is it that you do not understand?”</p><p>They nodded.</p><p>They thought of happiness, and knew what it was as a concept. If there were times in the past where they had felt it— while sure that they weren’t entirely bereft of it, they couldn’t identify the feeling properly on their own. They knew when others were happy. Their mannerisms were visual tells, while the little ghost in particular was that, and could paint the very air with their emotions, if they so pleased.</p><p>What was happiness?</p><p>They wondered.</p><p>The Weaver had spoken of happiness, too— she was happy that they had killed the Nosk for her. She seemed pleased for other reasons, but maybe she had been happy that they reacted to her.</p><p>Contrary to that, they were still very cautious of this bug that apparently knew them, but couldn't remember.</p><p>… As they thought of the Weaver, they nodded again for punctuated emphasis.</p><p>“Oh, decisive. A thoughtful thing you are, indeed— though what did the Pale One teach you, indeed, for you to question what is our happiness? Ahh, so peculiar, and so kind of you to ask.” The centipede cooed, in a matter-of-fact, matronly voice. “An outsider to our nest should only educated, certainly so if they’re sibling to the Gendered Child, heehee. I’m happy to oblige— oh! Such a good place to start.”</p><p>She tittered as her legs clicked together.</p><p>“Happiness can be anything from speaking to a friend, or meeting with someone you haven’t seen for a very long time, heehee. Receiving or giving is cause enough. Happiness is a marvel, indeed, and for the Nest, there are few things that make us happier than our brood. You see, relations with others are woven webs in their own right; how easy it is to feel happy to thrive, and sadness when without something for too long. How easy it is to be tangled and caught within as prey… ahhh.”</p><p>They didn’t like that. Not the analogy itself, but the fact the centipede was edging closer to them. They stayed stationary in spite of it.</p><p>She cooed.</p><p>“The Gendered Child was such a spritely thing, I’m sure you remember. Ahhh, how it pained us to hear her cries when her mother took to sleep, and when she left home without a word. We’ve been so awfully worried for her, wouldn’t you know.”</p><p>“But, with her homecoming, it seems she has not yet shed her way of solitude entirely. She might not do so for a time, but it does it warm my heart to hear from the Devout she’s doing so much better. Yes, yes, she takes solace in not being alone anymore, though she has so much family here already. But always, she wondered whether she was a true Weaver or not, for being so unlike us.”</p><p>They canted their head at that. The centipede was directly in front of them now, maybe two paces away. Her mask glinted in the dim light of the candle lit room, and glow of the Weaver’s ribbon.</p><p>“What a good sibling you are to worry. She’s quite worried over you too. A stern, fussy thing, she’s become— ahh, whoever did she get that from, I wonder? Heehee. But in truth, all of the Nest is one, very big family. Family is oft a complicated and sometimes an ugly thing; that dreadful disease of the mind has taken much from us. In spite of that, it’s given our Pale Gift a gift of her own.”</p><p>That Centipede knew full well what she was alluding to, when put it that way. They listened, hanging onto the bug’s every word, though try tried to give nothing away.</p><p>“It gave her back her large sibling who she could not stop singing praises of, and my small, good friend, who takes more after your sire than either of you.”</p><p>… So she definitely knew the Ghost of Hallownest too. Perhaps at this point, it would be a better question to ask who the little ghost didn’t know.</p><p>They nodded.</p><p>“Ah, so you see it too. Surprising, surprising, heehee.” The centipede giggled. They weren’t sure how to take that, but she continued. “Thinking so, I would have a request. A teensy, tiny request if you should indulge me…”</p><p>They weren’t letting her eat another limb of theirs.</p><p>Void was a dangerous thing to the living anyway, but even if they could convey that fact, the knowledge may not have deterred this bug.</p><p>They stared at her, with hidden apprehension, as the centipede murmured sweetly.</p><p>“Would you let her happiness be yours, too?”</p><p>The Hollow Knight froze in place at her request. They stared at the centipede, as they contemplated the answer. If she had intended to lower their guard entirely, it happened at this exact moment of time. The centipede could have lunged at them and went straight for their neck, and did so proverbially.</p><p>How were they to answer?</p><p>The notion of happiness still felt foreign to them. They had felt the echoes of their small sibling’s happiness through their void-hearted bond, but had not yet understood the rationale behind such emotion.</p><p>This request would have suited their little sibling more. Already, they were incapable of many things.</p><p>Why foist this upon them?</p><p>Before anything could be done, before they could muster a response, however wordless it was— a new voice cut through.</p><p>“Midwife.”</p><p>Hornet’s voice came from the doorway, seamlessly.</p><p>From where they sat, they couldn’t see her. If Hornet had been listening in on this one-sided conversation, she gave no indication on it. Therefore, the real question was how long she had been listening.</p><p>“Ahh. Dear, Gendered Child.” The centipede slunk back and looked sweetly at Hornet. “You return so soon? I was just checking on your sibling, as you can see. The others have told me that they were so still, don't you know, that they feared for the worst of their Weaverfriend.”</p><p>“I see." Hornet's voice was curt. "I thank you for checking on them.” She said plainly. “… Here.”</p><p>“Ahhh— your timing is impeccable, truly! I was just starting to feel oh so HUNGRY… Heehee!”</p><p>“Yes, Midwife.”</p><p>Hornet might have handed something off to the centipede— Midwife. Midwife slunk out of the room while making what they could assume to be the voracious sound of eating, as she scurried away with her given meal. Hornet strode to them as the doorway was cleared, unfazed. Either this was a common occurrence, or Hornet had come just in the nick of time. They lifted their head as she approached, with hand still on nail.</p><p>“You too.”</p><p>She said, offering a tiktik to them— wordlessly afterward, but her intent was clear. It was almost just as loud as an order. Though they had no desire to eat it as it was, and as a thought— would have preferred it cooked, they accepted it once Hornet’s expression registered.</p><p>Her concern betrayed her attempt at stoicism.</p><p>Since the time their siblings had gotten up to attend to matters and left them alone, they set their nail down, and let go of their nail to take the lifeless tiktik from Hornet.</p><p>They brought it to the base of their mask, and opened their mouth to sink their fangs into the corpse.</p><p>The soul that remained was nourishment, and gave them needed energy. Their void felt calmer for it, though it craved more.</p><p>They refrained.</p><p>As they finished, they offered the soulless corpse back to Hornet. They had no desire for it.</p><p>She didn’t take it back.</p><p>“You can’t pretend you are incapable of eating. I know you can, and you need to regain your strength.” She insisted. “Eat.”</p><p>They didn’t move.</p><p>Hornet scowled, as she tilted her head up to look at them. Them being seated spared her from the neck strain, but she had initiated a staring contest that she had no chance of winning.</p><p>Their hand remained held out to her, as they waited for her to take it back.</p><p>“Don’t be stubborn.”</p><p>What was she talking about? They were the least stubborn one here.</p><p>“Hollow Knight.” She said insistently, with her voice slightly raised.</p><p>They considered doing as she demanded. They still held it out to her, instead. She had greater needs than they did.</p><p>This frustrated her, as she lowered her head.</p><p>“I know it’s not a candy. I am sorry it isn’t.” She mumbled. “But please, eat.”</p><p>It registered to them, then.</p><p>Rather, a number of things did, but most importantly, they realized their folly.</p><p>They had thought that after Hornet had gotten sleep, she would have been back to normal, and things could have proceeded as if nothing ever happened. They might have preferred that outcome, really. It would have been easier, because they preferred not to trouble their siblings any more than what they were already doing. That was entirely the reason why they had willingly agreed to stay behind when she left to hunt. They lacked an arm, and the mobility to traverse Deepnest as quickly as she could.</p><p>It was only logical. It only made sense.</p><p>However, seeing her expression then, it dawned on them then— that it was a fool idea that such a convenient outcome could have ever taken place.</p><p>Hornet had likely gone hunting for their sake. Beyond just being worried for their condition, of which she could have no idea how serious it truly was, her solution that she was attempting to prescribe was to ensure they were being fed. To regain strength. It was a childish solution to a problem that she had no way of understanding, but she was trying to help nonetheless— in the only way she felt capable.</p><p>… In fact, they remembered—</p><p>Tiktiks were found nowhere near Deepnest.</p><p>…</p><p>They stared at her briefly, before lowering their hand. They wondered how far she had gone to retrieve something like this for them.</p><p>They didn’t want to eat. They had no appetite for it.</p><p>But…</p><p>…</p><p>The Hollow Knight lifted the Tiktik to their mouth, and sunk their fangs in. They chewed slowly, and wondered when was the last time they ate anything like this. They remembered the grotesque, sweet bile that came from their infection, but this wasn’t nearly as unpleasant, though it was uncomfortable. However, as they silently chewed, but felt their emptiness from before lessen, as they watched Hornet’s reaction.</p><p>Hornet visibly untensed, and let out a sigh of relief. She didn’t watch for long in order to pull out another Tiktik from the net she was dragging from behind her—and wordlessly, she sat beside them and started to nibble on her catch.</p><p>There was a third Tiktik that was left in her net, they noticed.</p><p>“Little Ghost hasn’t returned yet?” She asked— using the Ghost of Hallownest’s title as more of a name, they noted. Aside from that, her posture was finally easing.</p><p>But they nodded.</p><p>“I see. Something must be keeping them, but it wouldn’t be anything they couldn’t handle.” If only she offered that much confidence to them. But then again, they were in a sorrier state. As she took their stare as an indication that they were listening, she murmured further. “They seemed adamant about tending to what business they had.”</p><p>… Not at all unlike her. But supposing that, that’s what made them siblings. As they consumed the last morsel, they looked over to her, as she continued to eat delicately. Ever gently, they raised their hand to pat the top of her head again. Unlike the times before, she did not immediately freeze, and continued to eat.</p><p>“I’m not a child, Knight.” She said, rather petulantly. “Long have I not been.”</p><p>Her small stature, actions, and mannerisms betrayed her. She was still an adolescent at best, though however strong she was now, she would only become greater with time. They merely offered her a demure stare, and tilted their head at their shortened title. There was further confusion from them.</p><p>Why was she calling them that?</p><p>She paused, as they lifted their hand away.</p><p>“… I know it doesn’t do for a name; I would hope I could think of something better in time. There isn’t much of Hallownest to serve yet, and the King you were sworn to is gone.” She winced, with a thin veil of bitterness lacing her words. Nonetheless, she shook her head, continued. “… But you aren’t ‘Hollow’, and I will not call you that.”</p><p>Her words reverberated in their void, as it felt more full.</p><p>… At that, they may have felt a tinge of happiness.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You want to look for them, like you did for me.” She said.</p><p>They nodded. Slowly, and emphatically.</p><p>“There are two issues with that. I don’t know where they’ve gone, and you’re still in need to recover, Knight.” She was using their shortened title again, sternly admonishing them. They didn’t lower her head, this time, and contested it. Though lacking an arm, soul-starved, sleep-deprived, and perhaps insane, surely they were not that incapable. “Knowing them, however, they could likely be all the way on the other side of Hallownest.”</p><p>  <em>How? </em> </p><p>Hallownest was huge.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bold is the Knight, Italics is our Pure Vessel.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With Hornet in the room with them, they saw no need to hold onto their nail. Rather, they were sure if they did so, they would be scolded by her.</p><p>But something unseen was gripping at them. If they had felt better after eating, it was swiftly overridden by this foreign, all-encompassing emotion. But it wasn’t foreign—rather, they had lived through this already, however many days ago when they encountered that Nosk. Maybe they had always been capable of feeling this emotion, and kept it repressed lest they stop functioning.</p><p>Anxiety was gnawing at them, for a reason that they couldn’t really understand. They could probably continue to analyze the situation further, but what good would that do?</p><p>Their small sibling had not yet returned.</p><p>Normally their patience was an outstanding thing to behold. They would allow themselves to be poked and prodded by others, and waited until commands were issued and given before doing anything of their own accord. It was the only way to ensure they could keep up their pretense of being hollow, or pure. Sometimes for bouts of time, they would slip into mechanical mindlessness and disassociate with whatever reality was happening in front of them, to just <em>do</em>. They were often lulled from their stupors whenever the someone important interacted with them— but even then. They were never in a position where they could give anything more.</p><p>Even if they had wanted to return someone’s affection in the past, or do more than ordered, those actions couldn’t have been performed. Existing in the moment was the best way to cope, they found.</p><p>But that wasn’t of any use, here.</p><p>This feeling of ‘wanting’— the more they registered these emotions, the worse they felt. They felt empty. They felt longing. They felt the same way when they were sealed within the black egg, except their father back then didn’t ask them to wait. They were ordered to remain.</p><p>This was void, perhaps.</p><p>Before they could passively come to accept anything at all that they came into contact with, with the exception of the Old Light they denied with all of their being, until they had broken.</p><p>But this time, there were no chains holding them down, and the chamber was open. They could leave at any time. The door was beckoning, and even if they found themselves incapable, part of them already had started puzzling the logistics of chasing after the Ghost of Hallownest.</p><p>But they had been asked to wait.</p><p>Asked, they reminded themselves— not ordered.</p><p>If it were an order, maybe they would have been able to slip into mindless dormancy and they wouldn’t be accosted with these feelings.</p><p>Hornet was right. And they supposed, their small sibling was right all along.</p><p>They could have been hollow in the past, but they weren’t hollow anymore.</p><p>They already were coping terribly with the tangle of thoughts <em>and</em> feelings they couldn’t sort through by themselves.</p><p>They twitched on the plinth at the slightest noise as they tried to make out the Ghost of Hallownest’s footsteps, to no avail.</p><p>Maybe they were starting to understand their small sibling’s worry.</p><p><em>Worry</em>, they realized.</p><p>They were worried.</p><p>Hornet had made a hammock for herself to lounge on, and she was looking at them with some kind of expression that they couldn’t fathom.</p><p>Why was she not worried?</p><p>Then again, why were they worried at all, if they already knew that their small sibling was the Ghost of Hallownest, Lord of Shades that had raised the Void Sea and led the abyss itself to swallow the sun whole? Why were they worried at all when both siblings they were accompanying were stronger than them, now that they were no longer in their prime?</p><p>They realized it then.</p><p>
  <em>Insanity. </em>
</p><p>This might be insanity.</p><p> “If you’re worried about little Ghost, just give them time.” She murmured. They stopped and looked at her. Was it that obvious? “If they aren’t here within the next sleep cycle, I’ll go search for them.”</p><p>The <em>next</em> sleep cycle? Not the <em>current one?</em></p><p>They stared at her, baffled.</p><p>And leave them here while she went alone?</p><p>They shook their head, adamantly.</p><p>“No?”</p><p>They shook their head, partly wishing that they could talk, at this very instance. When people assumed what they thought, it was easier to just pass off things and go with the flow. But wanting— being asked what they would like. It was foreign to them, but they shook their head again, with newfound and foreign insistence.</p><p>From where she was dangling, Hornet canted her head. She seemed to realize it, as they looked towards the door purposefully.</p><p>“You want to look for them, like you did for me.” She said.</p><p>They nodded. Slowly, and emphatically.</p><p>“There are two issues with that. I don’t know where they’ve gone, and you’re still in need to recover, Knight.” She was using their shortened title again, sternly admonishing them. They didn’t lower her head, this time, and contested it. Though lacking an arm, soul-starved, sleep-deprived, and perhaps insane, surely they were not that incapable. “Knowing them, however, they could likely be all the way on the other side of Hallownest.”</p><p>
  <em>How? </em>
</p><p>Hallownest was huge.</p><p>Deepnest was also one of the farthest locations from any place in the Kingdom.</p><p>Void could do <em>many</em> things, but it couldn’t—</p><p>Wait, no.</p><p>They could teleport. Short distances, anyway, though they were incapable of it now.</p><p>… Or were they?</p><p>No, this wasn’t about them.</p><p>Could their small sibling teleport?</p><p>They wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case, though they would be more incensed at the thought that they hadn’t returned yet if they could.</p><p>So they probably couldn’t.</p><p>Yes, that made perfect sense.</p><p>But they still weren’t here.</p><p>Hornet’s sigh brought them back to reality.</p><p>“They will be fine. If you sleep, you’ll likely awaken to their return.”</p><p>
  <em>Denied. </em>
</p><p>They turned their head to stare at the door, as they waited expectantly, and anxiously for the little ghost. Hornet squinted at them, before cutting through the air with a question.</p><p>“… Have you slept at all?”</p><p>They were glad that they were so focused on staring at the door that they didn’t think to jolt at her accusation.</p><p>“Knight.” She was insisting that they answer her.</p><p>They ignored her.</p><p>“I know you’re worried that little Ghost isn’t present, but we’re both worried about you. Since your nightmare, you’ve been… tense.”</p><p>Midwife said something similar about the Spiders that had passed by this room, apparently to check on them. It was true that they held their nail the entire time and watched the door, but how could they relax? Maybe after a certain point of waiting, the darkness had reminded them of the black egg, and the claustrophobia went into full swing.</p><p>There weren’t any chains anymore, but still, they felt the weight bearing down on them.</p><p>Their posture slackened slightly as if to protest that assertion, however weakly. Their head lowered as the contents of the nightmare came to haunt them full stop.</p><p>They shook their head.</p><p>They expected Hornet to reprimand them in some respect, but instead, she sighed.</p><p>“… You don’t have to hide it. I know how you feel.”</p><p>They looked at her slowly. Could she? As they thought that, Hornet had hopped off her hammock, and sat beside them again.</p><p>“Sleeping was hard for me, too, for the fear the infection could take root in my mind while I was at my most vulnerable. … It was difficult for me to feel safe anywhere. With as many husks and others driven mad by the infection, it seemed like I was the only sane bug in a world gone mad.”</p><p>Their tangle of thoughts was starting to unravel, as they felt the main guilt of being able to achieve their purpose. As they lowered their head and found solace in gazing at the floor, and perhaps the ribbon tied around their wrist, Hornet continued.</p><p>“But if it was like that for me, how would you have felt? … It was painful, wasn’t it.” She asked, and answered. “You were the host of that dream for shorter than what was hoped for, but you held on for far longer than you should have. Why <em>would</em> you want to sleep? Whatever nightmare you had, I wish you could at least tell it to me so I could understand.”</p><p>Hornet’s tone was bitter. She was asking herself more, rather than asking them these questions—but she was trying to empathize. She was trying to process their actions, and in turn, they were trying to understand themselves as well. The Spiderling shook her head.</p><p>“… Really, I shouldn’t be telling you to sleep, when I can hardly muster a few hours to myself.” She mumbled, as she shrugged her shoulders.</p><p>When she put it that way, they couldn’t really make the demand or suggestion to anyone else to rest, either. But that brought up the question, because they were sure Hornet fell asleep prior.</p><p>They were quelled slightly at the thought that maybe Hornet felt safe around both themselves and the Ghost of Hallownest. Provided, there was also the assumption and argument that there was nowhere safer for her than being in Deepnest… but she had willingly gone back with them that cycle to rest in the company of her void-born siblings.</p><p>The concept of ‘feeling safe’.</p><p>They wondered about that for themselves.</p><p>If there would be anything that made them feel that way, it would been the presence of the Pale King.</p><p>…</p><p>… But he wasn’t here.</p><p>…</p><p>Hornet was still talking, but they weren’t doing well to pay attention. They felt some guilt for it, but their weariness and anxiety both, were getting the best of them. They just had to keep waiting. </p><p>That's what they were asked. </p><p>“I would still prefer it if you rested, Knight.”</p><p>They didn’t give her any indication of agreeing or denying the notion, this time. They continued to stare, and absentmindedly listen, as she continued. </p><p>“—But Ghost is likely attending to something important— Ah.”</p><p>When Hornet stopped speaking, they paused, too. It took them a moment to register the silence, and awaken from their stupor.</p><p>She was staring at the doorway, where the Ghost of Hallownest stood.</p><p>They stood their silently, with an almost menacing air around them as their footsteps pattered into the room. Grimmchild was on resting on their head with an exhausted expression—somehow, sound asleep. Hornet seemed momentarily taken aback, as she didn’t seem to know what to say in that exact instance. Maybe it was out of consideration to the sleeping Nightmare Child.</p><p>But still, she spoke.</p><p>“You’ve returned.”</p><p>The Ghost looked at her, but didn’t nod, for obvious reasons. </p><p>With their continued odd, uncharacteristic silence, they tottered up to the Hollow Knight. They reached into their cloak—or perhaps, the void of their being, and pulled out a large, ten-petaled flower. The little ghost broke their silence then.</p><p>
  <strong>For you.</strong>
</p><p>They held the flower to them.</p><p>The Hollow Knight was immediately entranced. In their youth, and those days in the Queen’s Gardens, there was a plethora of vegetation and flowers. There were flowers that turned into puffs, that Hornet liked to play with. There were flowers that held sweet nectar that was used for the White Lady’s teatime, but there was nothing like this.</p><p>They stared at the petals. Similar to the ribbon they received from the Weaver, it was glowing with a delicate, but easily distinguishable light.</p><p>It was a small, pure, but pale light.</p><p>On their own accord, they hobbled off the plinth, and knelt down to take it. They forgot for a moment that they were missing an arm as they momentarily went off balance, causing Hornet to move towards their side to correct it. They looked at her with an air of appreciation, but there was a highly likely chance that the sentiment wouldn’t have been conveyed.</p><p>They stared at the flower for a time, before looking to the Ghost of Hallownest.</p><p>
  <em>Where did you get this?</em>
</p><p>Rather than answering, the little ghost starting nudging them, and directing them to the plinth. Grimmchild woke up, mewling briefly before they flew and settled into a bundle of cloth, as to not be disturbed. It seemed what whatever endeavor they both tackled took a toll on both of them.</p><p>They attempted to ask what had happened, but their small sibling only responded with a notion that growing taller made certain things more difficult than before. Through the Void Heart, the little ghost conveyed exhaustion, exasperation, frustration along with many showers of flower petals and wilted stems among thorns, but great satisfaction.</p><p>They were immeasurably proud of themselves.</p><p>
  <strong>It’s time to sleep now. </strong>
</p><p>The ghost announced silently. After making the calculated decision that the Hollow Knight was too big for them to sway on their own, they tottered and tugged Hornet’s dress—directing her to the plinth, too. She expressed minute exasperation, as she glanced between the two of them.</p><p>“… One of these days, I’ll need to get ahold of some parchment. I know you two may be capable of communicating in some way, but it’s unknown to me.” She sighed, as the little ghost stared at her. “There’s little we can do for either of you, but maybe there would be time for that. To learn how to write, I mean.”</p><p>Not that she needed to teach them, but the one who might be in dire need of such lessons didn’t seem to care for the notion. The ghost bat their head against her harmlessly. As she stared at them, they pointed a paw to the plinth, insistently.</p><p>
  <strong>No, it’s time to sleep.</strong>
</p><p>She might have taken amusement in it, as her expression softened.</p><p>“Yes, yes. I’m going, Little Ghost.” She sighed, as she started to move, but waited for the Hollow Knight to stand on their own, first. With her support, they managed to sit back onto the plinth without incident—and without letting go of the strange flower, either. As they sat stationary, Hornet had begun puttering around on her own to ready her sleep preparations. She had done something similar last time, too.</p><p>But with her already getting ready to sleep, the little ghost turned their attention back to them.</p><p>They stared with their soulful, childish eyes.</p><p>
  <strong>It should be easier to sleep now, shouldn’t it?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>What do you mean?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>It becomes as precious as the heart when it’s held, and it makes bad thoughts go away. That means you can sleep well, now.</strong>
</p><p>They didn’t know if they could believe something like that, but there was definitely something off about the pale bloom that made it unlike any other flower they had seen. Some part of it had to be true, though—they felt warm, or as much as they could in their voidling state.</p><p>As they held it in their hands, the ghost chirped.</p><p>
  <strong>… And.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>And?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>I thought of you while I was taking it here. How you would react.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Do you like it?</strong>
</p><p>… They wondered how their sibling could be this kind to them. How either them, or Hornet could continue to lend their compassion like this. Did they even deserve a thing like this, after all they’d failed at?</p><p>They lowered their head.</p><p>
  <em>I waited, as you asked.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>You did. I am sorry for taking so long.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>That matters not.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This makes it the third time you come to deliver me from my burdens.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>… The third?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Yes.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Third??</strong>
</p><p>They took some mirth at the idea that they were the only one counting, but this was a habit of theirs, they supposed. To count and secretly treasure those fleeting, compassionate gestures given by those dear to them.</p><p>With as much gentleness as they could manage, they placed the flower beside their broken nail, which was set away from the plinth. They didn’t want any harm to come to it, and leaving it by their nail would hopefully dissuade them from making any incorrect decisions.</p><p>After, they, too, began their preparations to rest for the night—but not without picking up their small sibling. The ghost didn’t struggle, and instead rested their head against their shoulder—relaxing entirely. In fact, they seemed to begin drowsing off immediately, as a potential result of their exhaustion. Hornet had already climbed back into her hammock, and left sheets of silk for her siblings to make use of.</p><p>It took a moment for them to properly get into a comfortable sleeping position. Their small sibling was insistent towards their positioning, but eventually, an arrangement was settled on as the ghost buried themselves beside them, and they folded enough sheets together to form a makeshift pillow to rest their neck on.</p><p>They continued to think for a time, and apparently their time alone left them too comfortable with letting them hang in the still air. As the ghost burbled at them in their half-asleep state, the Hollow Knight glanced at the pale light. They looked at the silk-wrapped ceiling, and for a moment, they thought of the marquetry of the White Palace, and the light of the king as he looked at them, and smiled. The thought drifted to his stone-faced expression, as they remembered watching his retreating back as he left them in the Black Egg to their fate-- but when they opened their eyes, they remembered seeing their small sibling looking at them.</p><p>In this place, there weren’t chains here, and the taste of tiktik lingered in their thoughts. It wasn’t dark, and they weren’t alone.</p><p>They weren’t alone.</p><p>Their expression softened.</p><p>
  <em>I missed my opportunity to convey it before, but better late than never.</em>
</p><p>The little ghost echoed hazy curiosity and affection to them. In a rare instance, they reciprocated the feeling. They had many thoughts, and many things that they still wanted to ask—but the pull and promise of a dreamless sleep called to them. Their thoughts could wait tomorrow.</p><p>…</p><p>Tomorrow.</p><p>They never dreamed there would be a tomorrow that included them.</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>Thank you, Ghost.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Interlude I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As tantalizing as a prospect that was, burning down the whole of the Queen’s Gardens would be harmful in a number of ways. One, the fire could spread to the flowers—and two, the White Lady, in her hiding place, could potentially get caught in the inferno. They felt wistful with her as she kept her distance, but she didn’t deserve to be burnt to a crisp.</p><p>The whole of Greenpath was undeserving of such a fate.</p><p>It wasn’t worth it.</p><p>---</p><p>A change of pace; a peek through the eyes of a certain Ghost.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Ghost of Hallownest huffed as they stared at the den of thorns, where the Grave of the Traitor’s Child was. It was close, but so far. While traveling here had been a feat of relative ease, as they found that their adjustment to their height meant they could reach certain heights quicker without the need to rely on the Monarch’s Wings or scampering up the walls with the Mantis Claw, they found that their nail, at times, felt a touch too small in their hand. Something heavier would be nice, though they weren’t any less skilled because of this.</p><p>Rather, they were faced with a new predicament.</p><p>The grave of the Traitor’s Child was the only place in Hallownest where those delicate flowers would bloom, and they had the most ingenious idea of bringing their large sibling such a flower.</p><p>It had been a pleasant thought and feeling to entertain, and one that they felt might give their large sibling peace of mind. They remembered how the Grey Mourner or Elderbug insisted upon the flower’s effects on the heart. They wanted that for their large sibling. They wanted that, though they could not be sure what they could give them to achieve such an effect. They already ran through their mental checklist of potential gifts.</p><p>A King’s Idol was most obvious.</p><p>Finding one might prove to be difficult, however. Their sibling might not even be happy with any random one they could find, because they had known the Pale King in person. Would an idol compare to the real thing?</p><p>They had no clue.</p><p>All the Ghost of Hallownest knew of "the real thing", was the wispy, reverberating sound of the Pale King’s voice coming from his inscribed arcane tablets, later learning of him being sire to them and the many siblings prescribed but cast away to stopping the infection, and…</p><p>Maybe the foretelling of their ultimate purpose.</p><p>There were still traces of him at least in imagery to be found everywhere, but what they found in the White Palace was effectively a corpse.</p><p>… Though.</p><p>They had been sent out by something, back then, and they weren’t sure of what.</p><p>They didn’t care enough to go back.</p><p>They had only come for the Kingsoul.</p><p>That was all they went to that place for.</p><p>But speaking of going to places, with purposes in mind…</p><p>The mewling of Grimmchild brought them back to their senses.</p><p>A King’s Idol or a Delicate Flower.</p><p>They could attempt to barter with Lemm with something of greater worth, but the thought of using their Sibling’s time as a bartering chip felt horrendous. They knew the Relic Seeker was a glorified hoarder, but would Lemm turn out to be like The Collector? There couldn’t have been a jar big enough— The Black Egg didn’t count. And besides.</p><p>Lemm would crave information about the Hollow Knight more than anything, but subjecting their large sibling to an interview that would be more akin to being accosted with questions left themselves with an unpleasant feeling. They had been careful all this time not to deliberately ask of the past, though they had wanted to— their sibling still seemed so faraway.</p><p>Therefore, bartering with Lemm was simply out of the question.</p><p>It <em>had</em> to be a Delicate Flower.</p><p>If they chanced on a King’s Idol, they would just give it to them, then.</p><p>But the Delicate Flowers… they knew where those could be found.</p><p>They gave off pale light, however minute.</p><p>Maybe their sibling could find solace in that.</p><p>It was enough to make them set out at the earliest convenience, because they wanted to return right away. As soon as possible, preferably. Though they couldn’t convey that through words or feelings to Grimmchild, the nightmare scion accompanied them the entire way. They were as chatty as usual, in their normal incoherent manner of chirping and mewling, though the Ghost could swear that they had gotten bigger.</p><p>Together, however, both vessel and nightmare kin were stationed at the front of the first and last obstacle in this endeavor.  </p><p>And it was here, that Ghost of Hallownest found themselves in a predicament.</p><p>Coming here from Deepnest was not difficult. The horrors of Deepnest unnerved then to some degree, but they had checked their map, and planned out the route. There were many holes in Deepnest, and Garapedes they’d have to keep watch for. The Corpse Creepers could be problematic, as could the endless scores of Dirtcarvers. Those recovering or addled by the infection might still attack them, but in theory, they could just avoid such confrontations. They were self-assured that this wouldn’t be as difficult as the first time they had done this, or gifted the flower to Oro and Elderbug.</p><p>The distance itself was permissible. The Queen’s Gardens were right next door to Deepnest’s station— even the Old Stag had made a comment of it.</p><p>They were <em>certain</em> that this wouldn’t be difficult.</p><p>Ending the life of anything that would come in their path was not a choice of theirs, but rather the choice of anything or anyone that would stand in their way of this endeavor.</p><p>They would deliver a delicate flower to their large sibling.</p><p>But they found themselves staring hard at the river of thorns before them. Getting through this before was easy, because they were small. If it had been any kind of Mantis youth, or even the Traitor Lord himself, they wouldn’t have been able to reach. In fact, this is how they suspected the Grey Mourner was never able to reach the Traitor’s child herself.</p><p>But they had grown. Not by much, but enough to make a difference.</p><p>If not positioned carefully, their horns would drag, or worse, get caught in the thorn bed.</p><p>That would be painful, and it would spell immediate failure. Navigating through the entrance would be permissible. A potential prick here or there would only hinder them, but to be damaged after picking the flower would mean the bloom would wilt, and its petals would scatter in a flourish. Its pale light would be lost, and the value of the gift was in its effects, when unmarred.</p><p>They thought this would be easy.</p><p>How wrong they were.</p><p>They squinted.</p><p>Grimmchild stayed perched on their head, mewling, sassing to them an unintelligible question— one that they wouldn’t even think of asking themselves otherwise, but one they understood from their expression (though unseen) and mostly through tone:</p><p>“Are you really going to go in there?”</p><p>They had to.</p><p>They would do whatever it took.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Getting pass the thorns was an endeavor and a half. Grimmchild had flown ahead of them at all instances as they kept their head low, almost in a slouch, while they tried to navigate—when they jumped, they recoiled when they realized they jumped too high into the thorns on the ceiling of the small passage, and they silently yelped as they reflexively jolted back to their prior position. Grimmchild mewled at them with their voice lit with concern.</p><p>They were fine. Their new mask wouldn’t break so easily.</p><p>A bed of thorns certainly wouldn’t be enough to stop them.</p><p>As they got up and tried again, they were stewing to themselves in their frustration.</p><p>They sat on the ground for a moment, as Grimmchild flew over to them. Their mouth was alight with flame, as if waiting for the little ghost to give them the go ahead to torch down the entire thorn bed. A spark would be all that was necessary.</p><p>As tantalizing as a prospect that was, burning down the whole of the Queen’s Gardens would be harmful in a number of ways. One, the fire could spread to the flowers—and two, the White Lady, in her hiding place, could potentially get caught in the inferno. They felt wistful with her as she kept her distance, but she didn’t deserve to be burnt to a crisp.</p><p>The whole of Greenpath was undeserving of such a fate.</p><p>It wasn’t worth it.</p><p>They shook their head adamantly, but raised a paw to pat the top of Grimmchild’s head, as their large sibling would have done for them. They would start again.</p><p>After all, what would their sibling think if they saw the flower?</p><p>Would their heart feel at ease?</p><p>They were such a mystery.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The Hollow Knight had been separated from the void for so long, that they were closed off; they gave nothing away through their void-hearted bond. Up until this point, they had only known them through a wistful feeling, as they stared at their monument. In person, their large sibling was quiet, but they suspected that they were always thinking of something, which is why they seemed to be so distant. Unresponsive, even.</p><p>In fact, despite finally having a recipient to their thoughts, and someone they hoped could understand them, their large sibling refused to communicate them properly.</p><p>It felt somewhat lonely.</p><p>There was shared intent, sure. Their sibling being adamant, or staunch in bringing them to the Mask Maker had been one of those things. Further things were communicated and their sibling would ignore them, but they would never shut them out entirely.</p><p>When the Hollow Knight’s mask was fixed, that seemed to be a step in the correct direction.</p><p>When they were separated from a time on their way to the Distant Village, something of import seemed to have occurred then, too.</p><p>Their sibling laughed.</p><p>They <em>laughed</em>.</p><p>Slowly, but surely, they were becoming more responsive. The pains of their isolation were slowly being amended.</p><p>They thought that was another correct step in the right direction, but then the Hollow Knight slept for a time too long. They didn’t awaken. The first cycle was permissible, but the second, third, fourth, onward…</p><p>…</p><p>The most terrifying thing was how still they were.</p><p>They had been tempted on more than one occasion to strike their sibling with the Dream Nail, but if they invaded their dreams or thoughts without permission, they had a feeling that they wouldn’t be forgiven. Encountering the White Defender one too many times led to Ogrim actively acknowledging their presence in the dream, and after that… he disappeared.</p><p>They didn’t want their sibling to disappear.</p><p>So they had to wait, they reasoned to themselves. While Hornet was attending to her duties, they stayed and waited. Grimmchild was even kind enough to keep them company.</p><p>But they had to wait.</p><p>If they left for a moment, and their large sibling had disappeared without their knowing…</p><p>…</p><p>It would make it the third time they would be too late.</p><p>…</p><p>So when their large sibling finally sat up, it had been a welcome surprise that became a horrible shock within a matter of seconds. They fell off the plinth and collapsed onto the ground.</p><p>The Ghost had tried to help them back up when they saw it, but when they saw them lift their nail and raise it above their head, they shrieked. Magic shook the den and struck the Hollow Knight full force. It woke up Hornet and caused her to unleash a gossamer storm on reflex, because she thought she was under attack—coating the room in silk as they attempted to pry the nail out of their sibling’s hand to keep them from attempting it a second time.</p><p>It had been a traumatic and tense moment as Hornet came to realize what was happening, and forcefully wrapped their large sibling in silk bindings, and snapped the broken nail out of the Hollow Knight’s grip in the same moment.</p><p>The Hollow Knight went deathly still once they lost their nail.</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest thought they had died, right there. But that wasn’t correct; if they had, their shade would have been freed, and they would have awoken.</p><p>So they were still sleeping.</p><p>They were having a nightmare.</p><p>And desperately, they wanted them to wake.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Grimmchild’s sleepy mewling brought them back to reality, as they once again noticed, that their friend had definitely gotten bigger. Nubs, that might have been legs, kicked against the back of their mask as they held onto the top of their head. They wondered if they would be like Grimm, when they grew up.</p><p>They wondered what they would be like, once they grew up. Would they be that tall, too? Would Hornet still call them ‘Little Ghost’? Their large sibling said that they would continue to grow, so as long as they lived. They thought of their Lost Kin absentmindedly, and wondered for how long they had been out of the Abyss, to reach the next step of their life as they had.</p><p>They hoped someone would be there to see their own growth.</p><p>They hoped…</p><p>…</p><p>They hoped their sibling would be happy with their gift. Pleased, even?</p><p>‘Pleased’ was not the correct word when it came to the topic of the ribbon they had received, but they were entranced with it all the same.</p><p>If their Sibling received a Delicate Flower, would they have the same reaction?</p><p>Ah, but it would be even better, they hoped.</p><p>They thought of such as they started through the corridor with single-minded, blank focus. Amongst the chittering of the Devout, they could faintly make out the sound of Hornet’s voice. They chose to follow it. The voidheart pulsed with confirmation, as they felt the presence of void. She was talking to their large sibling—which meant that they waited.</p><p>Their Sibling waited for them.</p><p>They were still there.</p><p>They were almost there, and their heart swelled with excitement at the thought.</p><p>More than the exhaustion and soreness, or the faint, pricking pain that lingered within their carapace. Those things were ignorable. Those pains would disappear once they slept.</p><p>Their siblings were waiting for them.</p><p>And, it almost felt like coming home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There was a certain kind of marvel in seeing just how much things had changed in their absence, though they found themselves disliking it for the sheer number of thorns that had grown over the lush greenery. They stared absentmindedly, until the Ghost lulled them out of their thoughts.</p><p>  <strong>Why would you want to see the White Lady again?</strong> </p><p>They looked to their small sibling. If they there was a neat answer to this matter, they would have shared a long time ago.</p><p>Instead, they shook their head.</p><p>  <em>I do not know. </em></p><p>--- </p><p>In spite of everything said and done, the wheel turns, for better, or worse.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bold is the Knight, and Italics is our Pure Vessel.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They had chosen to leave the Delicate Flower behind. It was a painstaking process to work through. They were told by their sibling that it was a very fragile thing— and even if they wanted to keep it close, they didn’t want it to break. They treasured the gift, and they didn’t trust themselves not to be hurt while holding it.</p><p>It would stay safely squirreled away at Deepnest, and when the returned, it give them comfort. For a proverbial security blanket when they slept. To remind them vaguely of the Pale King.</p><p>But they slept, that night.</p><p>It was dreamless, and they found themselves welcomed back into a familiar, all-encompassing embrace.</p><p>Having grown accustomed to the presence of lights, while darkness was not foreign to them, it was something unfamiliar. It was nothing, but everything, one, and all— them, but not them. Void accepted everything it was given.</p><p>If they had opened their eyes while in the depths of unconsciousness, they wondered if they would have met the gaze of the Void Entity. They were being rocked by the ebb and flow of the void sea. Maybe in that fathomless space, their heart was holding onto the flower they were given as they were cradled, and beheld.</p><p>They were vaguely aware of it.</p><p>They were—</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Sibling. </strong>
</p><p>Ghost reached out to them, as they were lulled away from their thoughts.</p><p>
  <strong>Are you tired?</strong>
</p><p>The fading memory was tucked away, to be forgotten and remembered at a later time. In turn, they looked to their small sibling, and shook their head.</p><p>
  <em>I am fine. </em>
</p><p>The Ghost seemed ambivalent, but they accepted their answer. Since returning, they had been keenly aware of their state of being. More that the Hollow Knight felt like they were being watched, but not scrutinized like used to be in the Palace. The gentle concern the Ghost had for them radiated from them in waves as the often went to make sure they weren’t straining themselves, especially with how the two were navigating through the Queen’s Gardens. The topic had come up after the Ghost finally answered where they had gotten the flower.</p><p>Their sibling eventually admitted to them that the Queen had made her retreat here—and they encountered her on their quest to find them. That in the bottom of a cocoon-like nest, she was hidden away in the farthest cavern. That she gave them half of what would be the Kingsoul, which eventually became the Void Heart.</p><p>And the Hollow Knight…</p><p>Felt some kind of compulsion to be here—and so, here they were. Begrudgingly, their sibling was leading the way, although…</p><p>They were sure that this was taking only as long as it was, because they were slow to keep up. They could have taken the Stagways to reach the Gardens faster—but they reasoned that they wanted to see the Mask Maker, and their Weaver-friend briefly. They could not entirely place the reasons why.</p><p>They only wanted it, and Ghost obliged. Hornet had even chosen to accompany them, up until that point—stating that she would catch up with them later, after speaking to the Weaver.</p><p>They had no doubts she could do it. Especially considering their lackluster pace. Still, their small sibling took great pains to make sure they wouldn’t get separated a second time in Deepnest, and they were appreciative of it.</p><p>As such—it had taken quite some time.</p><p>It was taking them time to get accustomed to their weakness, though their pride could not fully accept it.</p><p>The Gardens, since the time they had known it, had overgrown and become lush with a different kind of verdancy. Beds of thorns had covered much of the ground, and the gazebos were dusty, from their lack of use, with climbing ivy and flowers. If they stared for too long, they might find themselves getting lost in memories bygone. Times when everything was well-kept. Times when there was laughter in the garden. Maybe even the taste of a floral tea.</p><p>… A familiar smell.</p><p>There was a certain kind of marvel in seeing just how much things had changed in their absence, though they found themselves disliking it for the sheer number of thorns that had grown over the lush greenery. They stared absentmindedly, until the Ghost lulled them out of their thoughts.</p><p>
  <strong>Why would you want to see the White Lady again?</strong>
</p><p>They looked to their small sibling. If they there was a neat answer to this matter, they would have shared a long time ago.</p><p>Instead, they shook their head.</p><p>
  <em>I do not know. </em>
</p><p>It was out of obligation, perhaps. They wondered about what Hornet said; how the Lady had left the court shortly after their Sealing.</p><p>They wondered why that was.</p><p>As they pondered the thought, though the Void Heart, images came to them of the Queen’s hiding place. A cocoon-like thing, nestled in the deepest part of the Gardens. Fierce Dryya’s corpse, forever vigil. Branches and roots poking through the brambles and overgrowth.</p><p>Unseeing blue eyes, looking through them.</p><p>
  <strong>She called me ‘replacement’.</strong>
</p><p>The Ghost’s remark was so bitter, that it left a semblance of a taste on the back of their own palette. There was a tangle of emotions to work through, and they felt incapable that they couldn’t navigate through them very well. First the Ghost had felt a sense of wonder towards the Lady. Trepidation and excitement, at the thought they would gain answers.</p><p>They didn’t receive the ones they wanted.</p><p>They had not understood the Lady, initially, until she called them her ‘spawn’, and not her ‘child’. The Ghost’s feeling echoed and split apart into different occurrences, though the one that stood out the most was the notion of being hurt, and frustrated.</p><p>What was this feeling?</p><p>
  <strong>She said you were tarnished. </strong>
</p><p>The Hollow Knight stopped at the thought.</p><p>
  <em>It’s not as if she was wrong.  </em>
</p><p>Their sibling stared at them, reproachfully.</p><p>
  <em>… About that, at least. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>You should not willingly agree to such assessments. </strong>
</p><p>They responded with an unspoken apology.</p><p>The Hollow Knight understood, to some degree. They knew the feeling, though they couldn’t place it quite well. However; receiving that emotion from their sibling that left them feeling more estranged than before. Maybe seeing her properly after all this time would leave them with more hurt, than anything else. They considered the notion to themselves, as they stopped walking briefly.</p><p>They lurched a second after and leapt to a patch of grass, that wasn’t riddled with thorns. They’d forgotten in that second; the platforms were no longer stable and gave way after a time of standing upon them. Once they regained their footing, they responded.</p><p>
  <em>I see.</em>
</p><p>Were they just a thing to the White Lady to be replaced?</p><p>They wondered, as they stopped and found themselves staring at something that wasn’t supposed to be in the glade.</p><p>The sight of tents left them on edge.</p><p>
  <em>What is this?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>The tents? </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>They belong to the Mantis Traitors.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Mantis… Traitors?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>The ones who followed the Traitor Lord.</strong>
</p><p>There were many logical steps that they were missing to the Ghost's conclusion. As their sibling continued moving along, they followed.</p><p>
  <em>But what did they do to be considered traitors to the Tribe?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Some willingly took on the infection to become Hallownest’s undoing. </strong>
</p><p>They felt instant revulsion. Not for the fact they were mantises, but for the fact that anyone in their right mind would accept the Old Light willingly. The Mantises were supposed to be known for being strong of mind.</p><p>
  <em>What could have happened?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>I don’t know. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>But the Traitor Lord is already dead.</strong>
</p><p>Before they could ask how, or why that was, a series of images came to them.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>There was a bug with a cloth mask and a hearty voice, hefting a club of immense weight over her shoulder.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>In the Ghost’s umpteenth trip to the Gardens, she appeared to lend them her aid.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>That same bug was impaled by a grotesquely bloated mantis—  </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>And she had smashed her club against the Traitor Lord’s crown.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>It was a trade, and the Ghost was there to witness it.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>By the end of it, both bugs were already dead on the gazebo floor. It was only after a solemn moment of staring at her unmoving body, that the Ghost finally could bring themselves to leave her.</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There were several observations they could make with what was being shared with them.</p><p>They chose to comment on the most obvious.</p><p>
  <em>She seems strong. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>She was. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>But not initially. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>No?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Not until she found her reason for courage. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I see. </em>
</p><p>'Courage'.</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest’s head dipped low. The bug— the Cicada, had been one of their friends too, they realized. The Hollow Knight felt as if they wanted to inquire further, but this sentiment also went without being conveyed.</p><p>Their small sibling continued to amble forward, making a path for them to follow. Much like their friend left to rest, the Ghost turned back to the main conversation at hand.</p><p>
  <strong>Even if it were possible to ask the Mantis Lords, I don’t think it would be a good idea for any number of reasons. </strong>
</p><p>They agreed.</p><p>Family affairs were best left private— but beyond that notion. They silently reaffirmed to themselves that the Ghost would never stop surprising them at this rate. To have curried the favor of that strength-prizing tribe.</p><p>They were slightly proud of them.</p><p>
  <em>Would they still be here in the Glade?</em>
</p><p>As they asked, the Ghost canted their head upward, and attempted to gauge the distance of a jump. They stared, before shook their head to their sibling briefly disapprovingly—a tell tale that they would be able to do it, but they wouldn’t—and another way would have to be found.</p><p>
  <strong>… I don’t know? </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>They made their home here.</strong>
</p><p>Judging by the tents, the observation was astute. They felt some anxiety from the notion.</p><p>The rogue Mantises that were lurking amongst the garden…</p><p>They hadn’t seen a single mantis up until this point, however. Aside from the occasional Mosskin, the biggest hazard was the thorns.</p><p>The only thing they could think to themselves is what could have led things to this point.</p><p>The Mantises had no love for Hallownest. Now free from infection, what would they do? Even without their leader, what would they do? Would they still hold onto their hatred? If they took the Infection on willingly, then…</p><p>The Hollow Knight stopped.</p><p>
  <em>Ghost. </em>
</p><p>The Ghost stopped to lift their head from their map, and looked at them in the midst of their meandering line of thought. More recently, the Hollow Knight felt comfortable enough to follow Hornet's example and call them that. It was an excellent way of getting their attention.</p><p>
  <strong>Yes?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Make haste for the fastest path. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Are you sure?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Yes. </em>
</p><p>They nodded, and pulled out their nail.</p><p>
  <em>I will follow.</em>
</p><p>Complacency was now replaced with newfound urgency as they saw the Ghost of Hallownest unfurl their wings, and leap to greater heights. What soul they had in reserve, and what soul they had accrued— even if some part of themselves doubted their ability in their weakened state, there was no other choice.</p><p>They dug deep within themselves as they tightened their grip on their nail.</p><p>They asked the void to answer them as they focused on the empty space ahead. They willed it.</p><p>It surged.</p><p>Within a blink of an eye, their shade flashed over their form.</p><p>The distance was closed in an instant as they dropped shortly by the Ghost of Hallownest. Their small sibling looked startled, but quickly recovered as they briefly echoed wonder, and an unspoken question if they could be taught how to do that.</p><p>Greedy.</p><p>There would be time for it later, but for now, they needed to move forward. The Ghost, though confused, nodded and dashed away. The creak of platforms that were much to small for them were ignored completely as the Hollow Knight opted to dash across the entire gap. They stumbled as they forced their body to move forward, and stabbed their nail into the ground for support as the Ghost went ahead of them.</p><p>Even if they weren’t the same as before, they had to go, if only to quash their own fears.</p><p>
  <strong>What for?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>If they have their minds again, the Lady is in danger. </em>
</p><p>Their small sibling didn’t echo the sentiment, but understood.</p><p>The White Lady was a Higher Being, though. A Root. Surely, she wouldn’t be killed, even without her protector Great Knight, would she?</p><p>But as they pondered it, they wondered if the cause for overgrowth had a purpose. Lady Unn of Greenpath had precedence of foliage of a different make, and her children were those who lived among that path.</p><p>The White Lady…</p><p>
  <em>… Might have caused these to grow. To defend herself.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>What do you mean?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>She is a Root. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>An origin. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>I don’t know what that means. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>How aware of the Kingdom’s History would you know?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Enough to know of its cursed past.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>But nothing of what it was. </em>
</p><p>They nodded.</p><p>
  <em>A Root is an originator. Lady Unn is of a similar kind, but they are different. Higher Beings, or Gods, have precedence over certain domains. Originators create life and fashion it in their image.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>I think I follow. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Unn is the one who made Greenpath and the Mosskin. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Yes. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>And She and the Moth Tribe. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>… Yes.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>The White Lady made us.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Yes. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>But we are unlike her.</strong>
</p><p>Their small sibling said that so pointedly. They couldn't fault the notion, but the attempted to answer.</p><p>
  <em>She is not of bug like the Pale King was—and even then, he was a Wyrm before he descended upon the Land that became Hallownest.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>The Cast-Off Shell.</strong>
</p><p>They affirmed.</p><p>
  <strong>The White Lady is the Queen of Hallownest, yes?</strong>
</p><p>Was that not obvious?</p><p>
  <strong>I mean. It is. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>But if we were born of Root and Wyrm, why aren’t we like either of them?</strong>
</p><p>They wouldn’t discount that notion completely. At least in some respect of physicality, they took after at least their sire- though their small sibling's resemblance, or at least fortitude, was uncanny (though they would keep that to themselves). At the very least, their Lost Kin, had a striking resemblance to the White Lady.</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest conceded that point.</p><p>
  <strong>I am not sure what to feel towards her. </strong>
</p><p>That made two of them. Neither did they.</p><p>
  <strong>Do you think she wanted us?</strong>
</p><p>That, they couldn’t answer.</p><p>Silence hung over the two as they continued further towards the gardens.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They were right to show concern. It could have been a small army of them. The further the Vessels traversed into the glade, the whereabouts of the Mantis Traitors became apparent.</p><p>Whether they had the guidance of a dead goddess mattered not.</p><p>The screams of rage, and grudges long kept from an age bygone had driven these bugs mad long ago. If anything, with the Traitor Lord's death, their actions were fueled by vengeance. Who had killed the Traitor Lord didn't matter. The only one who could have been responsible for it was in the Glade.</p><p>Both Vessels were taken aback as they were unceremoniously ambushed— a set of claw coming down from the ceiling, as the Ghost reacted first. A blast of void and soul was unleashed from their small frame, blasting away the mantis to be impaled into the bed of thorns. As the Ghost did this, another scampered towards then, and on their own, the Hollow Knight dashed and plunged their nail into the aggressor. Blue hemolymph splattered as they cut down the mantis, and cast it aside with monstrous strength.</p><p>It tore into two.</p><p>Soul flowed into them as they had a vague recollection of where they were now. They were close to the Queen’s favorite gazebo. The memories from before danced in their mind, as they slashed another traitor to pieces.</p><p>But just like that, another two mantises took their place from ahead. The Ghost drew their nail as the two of them in tandem began running the gauntlet.</p><p>They cleaved through.</p><p>For the first time they had fought together side by side, there was something remarkable about it all. There was a very real threat that misplaced blows or poorly-timed magic could shred each other apart, but there was consideration and a sense of unity in their synergy.</p><p>There wasn’t a need for words.</p><p>They wondered if the Cicada felt the same way when she fought at the Ghost’s side. Fear must have gripped her, too.</p><p>A reason for courage…</p><p>Their heart swelled.</p><p>As they began to accrue injury, the Ghost of Hallownest grew more worried, though they were not free of damage themselves. Together, they began to fight with further fervor as they cut down the scores of Mantises. Soul and Shade ripped through the air, and the sound of claw and nail strikes resounded through the gardens. Though encased in a shell, the Lord of Shades was the strongest creature in all of Hallownest.</p><p>And themselves?</p><p>They knew not what they were.</p><p>They only needed to go.</p><p>Though their capacity for soul was limited, they felt light on their feet as they smashed apart another invader instead of focusing. They wished they had their right arm again. To some degree, they wished they were whole again to hasten their approach, instead of relying purely on their Sibling’s strength.  </p><p>There was no time to think about what they did not have.</p><p>As they thought that, they took heed of the Ghost’s cleaving strike. Was that a nail art? They had no time to think about it as they warped away seamlessly, and plunged their nail into a Petra.</p><p>
  <strong>We’re almost there. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I know. </em>
</p><p>The corpses of the Traitor Lord and the Cicada lie across from each other as they flew by.</p><p>Ahead of them, the passage bore a sight— mantises had trampled over their own dead. Over Dryya’s corpse. Even though they were free from infection, madness claimed them as the Hollow Knight registered the sight of mutilated, hacked roots, and milky white sap— or soul. It charged the air. It was spilt life, at its essence.</p><p>They recognized that the White Lady’s blood was pooled, and dried in some places.</p><p>Something might have possessed them, in that moment.</p><p>The bloated Mantises had been at this for days, likely. All to take revenge on their deceased lord. They had slashed away at the cocoon, tearing the entrance wide to gain access to the White Lady’s hiding place. There was a single-minded focus as the Traitors screamed at each other in their native tongue, all without realizing the appearance of the vessels. They were funneling inside, hacking at the Lady’s branches, and burrowing to get to her. Ichor stained the air.</p><p>
  <strong>They’re already inside—</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I know. </em>
</p><p>They hoped they would be forgiven for this.</p><p>Before the Ghost could do anything, something gripped the Hollow Knight. They leapt into the air.</p><p>It was instinctual as they felt their soul coalesce, and they gripped their nail tightly— but the didn’t plunge the blade directly into any of the invaders. They dug it into the ground.</p><p>The nail acted as a beacon of soul— they were borrowing something that felt like was theirs, but wasn’t, as the roots in the garden glowed brightly in response to them. Cracked blades of soul and light skewered the interior, imploding violently as the Hollow Knight turned the first level of the cocoon into an Iron Maiden.</p><p>The cacophony of screams was lost to the Hollow Knight, as the blades dissipated, and the mass went still.</p><p>They fell to their knees immediately after.</p><p>
  <strong>Sibling!</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Go. </em>
</p><p>The thought was sharp.</p><p>They didn’t know if the brunt of them had been eradicated in the stroke, but their errand here would be for nothing if she was dead. The soul they had spent would be wasted.</p><p>And if there were more still, they couldn’t be the one to slay them.</p><p>Not in this state.</p><p>
  <em>Go, Ghost. </em>
</p><p>They urged, as they raised their head up to stare at their sibling. Imploring them.</p><p>
  <em>I will be right behind you. </em>
</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest tore their gaze away from them, and descended into the hole.</p><p>They tried to stand. With their only arm, they grasped their nail and used it as a makeshift crutch, as the weight of their feebleness came crashing down on them.</p><p>What compelled them to move, they wondered? Their accrued wounds couldn’t be patched now that they were devoid of soul, but this couldn’t be enough. They still had to go— but they wondered why, or what for.</p><p>Not yet.</p><p>
  <em>Not yet. </em>
</p><p>They struggled, as they tried to lift themselves up. The shredded entrance taunted them as they staggered, and fell to the side limply. Their nail clattered on the ground, as exhaustion clung to them like a shroud, as gravity took them.</p><p>When they fell, they never felt the ground beneath them.</p><p>Unwillingly, they were welcomed back into a gentle embrace.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If anyone is wondering why I'm updating this so quickly, it's because I like to work while an idea is fresh, haha. At the very least, it makes for an interesting self-imposed NaNoWriMo, but I know I won't make the month deadline. </p><p>This is entirely for fun, after all. I wonder if the overall motif has become apparent yet? If not, that's okay. I just hope you all are enjoying the ride, too.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The wind was calling.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Italics is our Protagonist.</p><p>Bold Italics, in individual lines, are their fragments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They found themselves here again. Shrouded in darkness, as the faintest traces of essence crept up in their peripherals. They weren’t sure if their eyes were closed or not, as they silently cursed their own fragility. Their incapability. Under no circumstance would they have collapsed if they had the choice in the matter, but their body betrayed them.</p><p>If only they were stronger.</p><p>Their own thoughts echoed back at them, comparing them much to the flower that they had left behind in Deepnest. Maybe if they had chosen not to empty their soul reserves and command a force that wasn’t their own, this wouldn’t have happened.</p><p>But was it the wrong choice?</p><p>… They… didn’t think so.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Do not think.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Their own silent admonishment reverberated in their heart, as they suddenly found themselves sat between their two extremes: The Hollow Knight, and Pure Vessel.</p><p>The Hollow Knight sat on the floor with their back facing them— orange pustules and bile staining their haggard form.</p><p>The Pure Vessel stood with their back turned to them, with their ceremonial cloak and pristine armor standing out as a beacon in the endless darkness that surrounded them.</p><p>With their two past roles before then, they registered their surroundings change, into the interior of the Black Egg.</p><p>Their Hollow Self was the second to ‘speak’, as they dipped their head low.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>We should have died. </em> </strong>
</p><p>Maybe they agreed.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>We should have been left behind.</em> </strong>
</p><p>They understood, but found themselves disagreeing.</p><p>They… hadn’t wanted that.</p><p>… Deep down, though they couldn’t think of it then, they had still hoped someone would come for them.</p><p>As they thought that, the figure of their Pure Self shifted, and looked to them from the side, and uttered one thing in reminder.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Do not hope. </em> </strong>
</p><p>A tall order when they were already filled with the hopes of their father. If he had wanted a Pure Vessel, he should have just sealed them in the Black Egg before they had gotten attached to him.</p><p>Their Pure Self turned away at the thought.</p><p>Their Hollow Self turned more towards them— just enough. The crack on their shell jumped out at them.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Though incapable, why do you push yourself so far?</em> </strong>
</p><p>They didn’t know.</p><p>Maybe because it was the right thing, in their eyes. Because there was something unfathomable that they found in their encounters with others. The Mask Maker. The Weaver. Their Siblings.</p><p>Maybe there was something left for them to protect. Maybe in this ruined Hallownest, there was something still worth protecting.</p><p>Wouldn’t that be enough?</p><p>Though broken, they were still a Knight.</p><p>Their Hollow Self twitched at that, and rapidly scrambled to their feet. The chains binding them rattled in lieu of a silent, outraged scream. They were one-armed like they were— but still sickly with decay of the soul, mind, and spirit. Their hand was found on their neck, as orange liquid seeped through their mask’s eye holes as they gripped as tightly as they could. The acid burned, as it fell on their own mask.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>You cling to your title of Knight, but what good as that done for you?</em></strong>
</p><p>Their reflection was mocking them.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>For us?</em> </strong>
</p><p>Their Hollow Self sank, as their grip loosened— not that it was tight to start with.</p><p>
  <strong><em>It broke us. </em> </strong>
</p><p>Their body betrayed them; they didn’t even have the strength to lift their nail.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>We failed. </em> </strong>
</p><p>Sorrow painted the air— and they understood. The desperation of trying to keep everything together though they were literally falling apart gave them pause. They repeated it, as they were being crushed by the guilt— that thousands of lives would suffer for their inability to fulfill their purpose. That the one person that they would do anything for, hated them for not being what he had wanted. For not being ‘pure’.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>We failed. </em> </strong>
</p><p>The Hollow Knight lamented.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>What good was being chosen?</strong> </em>
</p><p>All it did was give them a broken nail and a lifetime’s worth of pain. A veritable death sentence that they had went along with, willingly.</p><p>They had to laugh at the thought, however. Plainly, mirthlessly, and self-deprecatingly so.</p><p>Both of their incarnations stared at them as they rose, and took their other’s hand away from their throat. They stared back. They didn't know the answer to their own question, though part of them had taken joy in being given the privilege of their father's company, however undeserving they were. What good was being chosen?</p><p>
  <em>I don't know.</em>
</p><p>They bowed their head. As if vindicated by this assertion, their other self glowered- but they didn't stop there.</p><p>
  <em>We failed. This is true. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But we were redeemed, too.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Though the path was not without its cost, our purpose was ultimately fulfilled. But what lies beyond that path?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I do not know.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Being a Knight is all I know, to be true. But what else would our strength be?</em>
</p><p>The crack in their Hollow Self's mask taunted them, as they loomed over them.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Nothing. </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Our purpose was outlived.</em> </strong>
</p><p>There had never been a truer statement uttered, and it served as a reminder as to what the Mask Maker spoke to them about. The nature of void, and the things they had gained from recent memory. From their interactions with others. They nodded in affirmation, and repeated it.</p><p>
  <em>So it was. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Though purpose outlived, there is no face that suits us better than this.</em>
</p><p>Outrage painted the air, as the Hollow Knight clawed at their chest.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Then for what reason do we live for? </em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>We weren't supposed to survive. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>We were born to die, not live. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>We were damned to be empty! </em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><em>HOLLOW!</em> </strong>
</p><p>Their Hollow Self roared, as they lifted their nail. This time, before any act of made from contrition could occur, they stopped themselves, and grasped their wrist. The cracked, pure nail clattered to the ground.</p><p>It was their curse, and their title. In spite of it all, they spoke out.</p><p>
  <em>Though damned, I find it to be salvation. </em>
</p><p>Their confusion painted the air, as their Hollow Self stared uncomprehendingly.</p><p>
  <strong><em>What salvation would there be in being empty?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>To be what is beheld of us, in spite of weakness. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Even if it would be a lie?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>What part of it would be?</em>
</p><p>Their Hollow Self stared at them, and the question they left hanging in the air. There wasn't a retort to be mustered, as their confusion swiftly turned into confusion.</p><p>They stared back challengingly. For the first time in their life, when faced with themselves like this, they felt ashamed of their thoughts, but they understood. There was an age ago when this was all they knew. When they believed that there was nothing awaiting them beyond the release of their duty.</p><p>
  <em>We can be anything. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>That is our choice— That we might be more than our circumstance, and what we were born for. Though incapable, is striving for an impossibility anything different from what we’ve already done?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We can do this because we still yet live. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And that in itself is worth something.</em>
</p><p>Their Pure Self turned away, and stayed stationary— perhaps rejecting the notion.</p><p>But their Hollow Self stared, and continued to cry their acid-hot tears. They were trembling with weakness, as they bowed their head in defeat. They had no strength to fight. No strength to protest. It was a pitiful sight to behold, as they sank to the ground.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>You are leaving?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I must.</em>
</p><p>They started to rise, as they looked to the entrance. There was no seal of binding closing the path off—and they could leave, if they could muster that will.</p><p>
  <em>I do not intend to stay for any longer than I have to. </em>
</p><p>… Thinking that, in spite of whatever chiding their Pure Self might have done, they stopped just as quickly, and looked to their broken form. They corrected themselves. </p><p><strong> <em>We</em> </strong> <em> don’t have to stay here for any longer. </em></p><p>This took their broken self aback, as they weakly raised their head. In spite of everything, the Knight leaned down to help their shattered self. The Hollow Knight shuddered, as they collapsed into a heap of dead weight in response.</p><p>There were a myriad of repressed emotions—regrets, dread, despair, fears, doubts— taking the form of chains holding them back. They couldn’t stand on their own— they believed that they couldn’t. This knowledge and understanding dissuaded the Knight none. Such a thing wouldn’t have stopped their small sibling, who insistently encouraged them to simply <em>be.</em></p><p>Knowing so, they gently let their Hollow Self down, and held out their hand patiently.</p><p>This pathetic, pitiful creature was them.</p><p>And in their own mind— which they had come to accept that they possessed— could they really damn themselves, by thinking they weren’t worth saving?</p><p>Their hand was held aloft, as they silently urged their Hollow self to stand on their own. To take their hand, for their own sake. They found themselves thinking of memories bygone, where they may have wished that someone could do this for them- and here they were, doing it for themselves now. Their reflection's hand shook. Fear and hesitance gripped them, as they struggled with themselves- but they insisted.</p><p>
  <em>Someone is waiting for us. </em>
</p><p>At that urging, something clicked. Their Hollow Self quivered, and clasped the Knight’s hand. In short order, with a familiar strength they knew to be their own, they yanked the Hollow Knight up to their feet— they had done it so quickly that their figure slammed against the Knight, but they were ready to catch them if it came to that.</p><p>But no such thing occurred. The moment their Hollow Self collided with the Knight, they dissipated into particles of soul, as the chains behind them shattered apart from behind them- fading into dream essence. Once it registered, they stared at the spot where they disappeared, and clenched their hand. Their soul felt lighter, as they felt the wind calling for them from beyond the Black Egg.</p><p>It was time to go.</p><p>They started towards the entrance of the Black Egg, leaving their Pure Self behind. They glanced back briefly. This wouldn’t be the last time, they felt, but they couldn’t stay.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Do not…</em> </strong>
</p><p>They shook their head.</p><p>What the Pure Vessel was going to say was lost, because they refused to finish.</p><p>All the same, the Knight started walking forward.</p><p>The wind was calling. If leaving this place left room for disappointment, they would live with that. They had told their sibling that they would be right behind them, and they weren’t going to let the Ghost down again, lest their never-ending debt pool accrue further. And what a mortifying thing that would be, if that were the case.</p><p>Even so.</p><p>
  <em>I’ll come back for you. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>…</em> </strong>
</p><p>Without turning back, they went.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bold is the Knight, and Italics is our Protagonist.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They never felt the ground beneath them because they clasped onto the wall for support.</p><p>They roused themselves out of unconscious through brute force of will—such a thing was more becoming of them, than believing they would allow another promise to fall through.</p><p>They shuddered as they lifted themselves up, their soul surging as they felt the effects of their reclaimed self. A proverbial second wind came to them, as they willed themselves to stand.</p><p>If they had so brazenly told themselves that they could be anything, at the very least, they wanted to be what the Ghost of Hallownest would think of them.</p><p>That alone could mean that they could accomplish anything.</p><p>They seized their nail, and pressed onward.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The tunnels had been shredded by mantis claw, in order to give way to the large, bloated traitors that had festered in the Glade. The aftermath of their strike was nothing short of destructive and not worth description; the corpses had either exploded from the trace of their infection, or from the force of the strike. They didn’t care to know which one it was.</p><p>In this tunnel, however, there was still less room than what would be desired. There was a long fall down, where they could hear nail strikes—so the Ghost was nearby. How close, they couldn’t tell. It ultimately wasn’t enough to dissuade their pursuit, but they gave pause to the screeching coming from behind them, as something stabbed them from behind.</p><p>There were still more.</p><p>Void bled from their new wound as they tried to turn as quickly as they could- stabbing their nail behind them, and impaling their attacker in retaliation. They left their nail embedded in them as they turned, and grasped it to drive it further.</p><p>This time, they were at a disadvantage—and now, they understood why Fierce Dryya had chosen to station herself outside the cocoon, to hold them back to her last breath. As they thought of her, the fencing lessons they had gotten from her came to mind. Being taught to parry. The importance of keeping one's stance. To be driven by instinct and tactics, but not be blinded by either in battle.</p><p>She was an excellent teacher in that regard. But then again, all of the Great Knights had been like that, for different reasons.</p><p>More than the skill with nail that they had gained, they wished they could have been able to understand, back then—what compelled the Great Knights to tend to their designations and stations so. One of the things that stood out to them, about Dryya, was her desire to protect others with what strength she possessed, and how devoted she was to her duty to protect the White Lady.</p><p>They, themselves, had been filled with many things, but devotion to the Queen of Hallownest wasn’t one of those. But still, they would be damned if they allowed the mantis traitors to pass. They couldn't allow it, if only to honor Dryya. As haggard as they were, even if it was an honorary title meant for a sacrifice, they were still a Knight of a fading land.</p><p>Thinking it so, as another Mantis came to slash at them, they lifted their nail to parry the strike, and ran them through. Soul flowed through them as they bodily rammed the line of intruders out of the Queen’s Retreat, but jerked as they felt a scythe stab into them once they emerged from the exit.</p><p>One, two, three, four—</p><p>They howled.</p><p>Not for pain, not for agony, but for defiance. It wasn’t even directed to the Mantises themselves— their choice would have wrought them the same end, whether it was by the hand of Dryya, or themselves. But if Dryya had imparted at least one thing to them posthumously, it was the ferocity of her namesake.</p><p>Soul exploded around them as all life in their immediate radius was extinguished.</p><p>Blue hemolymph splattered.</p><p>Void leaked around them, staining the ground.</p><p>The spilt soul suffusing the air surged, and at their will, exploded. Magic cascaded over, tenfold, as they gardens were painted with magic circles of old. With their focus clear, they hunkered down, and stared at the number before them. No longer would were they trapped in the Black Egg; no longer would they be prisoner to their emptiness.</p><p>After all, the fear reflected in the abyss of their eyes wasn’t their own.</p><p>Their silent cry shook the air, and consumed every mote of noise in the warren. With their Shade and Soul festering around them in visible waves, the Hollow Knight glowered at the Mantis Traitors with nail in hand, daring any one of them to step forward and meet their end.</p><p>White painted their vision.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Though it was an impossibility, they felt the faintest gust of wind flutter beneath their useless wings.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em> They were small again. Maybe for as long as they kept their eyes closed, they could be carried through the halls of the White Palace. </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>There was a comforting smell.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>It would be a nice change of pace, for once, instead of being made to fight endlessly.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>If only…</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They awoke from their memory to dim light.</p><p>The first thing they registered were the vague particles of leftover dream essence, fluttering in their peripherals.</p><p>The second thing that greeted them was the unfamiliar ceiling of tightly woven plants. Pale white roots laced through the canopy and poked out of some places, and they recognized it immediately. In an age bygone, these roots were less wild. She would have had mobility, but chose to tangle herself within nature. It was now, they understood the extent that the White Lady had rooted herself here, underground, and was incapable of movement.</p><p>But how were they here?</p><p>The last thing they remembered was fighting at the front of the cocoon.</p><p>And for the umpteenth time in their life, they were bound again.</p><p>But this wasn’t the Black Egg, nor were there chains of their prison. They were tempted to move while constricted, but felt some reluctance and dread in the act—especially out of consideration to their fourth realization, that the Lady’s roots were wrapped around them.</p><p>“It finally awakens."</p><p>They did not jolt at the sound of her voice.</p><p>They only stared straight ahead as they felt themselves backsliding into a time bygone— but steeled themselves for what was to come. After all, she always spoke to them as if they were a half-wit. She would address them, but also speak to them as if they weren't there.</p><p>"Great risk there was, in performing the feats it did, but somehow it emerges less fractured than before." The White Lady observed, and continued. "Perhaps this Vessel, too, was changed.” </p><p>The Lady’s roots, at her will, began to unravel, and recede from them. Out of obedience and rearing, they remained on the ground, silently contemplating why they had come here. It was too late to regret it, however. </p><p>Where was their small Sibling?</p><p>At the thought, their porcelain white mask poked into their view. Ghost looked over them. </p><p>They felt unbridled relief for it. They turned what they could of their head to acknowledge them. Their small sibling was holding their massive nail by the handle, silently furious, but more relieved at their responsiveness.</p><p>“It was instructed to bring the other of its kind here.” The White Lady finally explained. Her voice was even, and gave no sense of compassion. “I sensed it in my Roots. Freed from suffering it was, frail it remains as lies fractured in soul, not unlike us. Along with it, stands the Void-hearted thing that has claimed Hallownest’s future. Its awakening was awaited by it.” The White Lady murmured with her queenly mask, in spite of her diminished state within this cocoon.</p><p>To some extent, she looked almost as if she were wilting. Given the amount of ichor, and the number of severed, dying roots that they saw, she must have sustained damage of a kind, even with her main body unmarred— but the way she carried herself wouldn’t have given that away.</p><p>In fact, one could have thought she was never blind at all, with how she simultaneously looked at them directly, and through them, as if they were a weed growing out of the ground.</p><p>“For the service done, just reward was given.” She stated plainly. “Stand, Vessel.”</p><p>Once they found themselves unbound, they paused as to ascertain their sense of balance, before standing up— not to their full stature because the height of the Lady’s den wouldn’t allow it, but it was enough. They saw the bindings around her, and wondered silently.</p><p>
  <strong>She put herself in those.</strong>
</p><p>The Ghost supplied helpfully, and held out their nail to them, which they accepted without incident.</p><p>
  <em>Why?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Because she said she felt shame about her part in our creation.</strong>
</p><p>That knowledge made them feel some way, that they couldn’t properly parse. They just accepted it to be true.</p><p>
  <em>I see.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>In spite of that, she healed you. </strong>
</p><p>That… made sense considering her mention of ‘reward’, but now that they realized it, now was a good time to ask.</p><p>
  <em>What happened to the Mantis Traitors?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>I dealt with the rest before they could reach the White Lady. Your attack destroyed the brunt of them, except for those who were still clawing at the last path.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>She must’ve known what was happening, because it was so close. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>But after they were slain, she told me to bring you here because she felt you weakening. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I heard you cry out.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I came as quickly as I could, but whatever you did, you had already scared the rest of them away.</strong>
</p><p>That could be problematic, later—but they could think of such a prospect later. The Ghost of Hallownest silently agreed with them, and continued.</p><p><strong>You fell unconscious, standing up. </strong> <strong>I brought you here, after. </strong></p><p>
  <em>… I see.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thank you. </em>
</p><p>They might have been forgiven slightly. However, their relief was short-lived, as the Ghost continued.</p><p>
  <strong>What does the Lady mean by you being ‘fractured’?</strong>
</p><p>Ah. They found themselves inwardly cringing at the fact that the Lady had announced their fractured state so plainly, but their rearing of keeping everything to themselves saved them again. Their body language gave nothing away.</p><p>However, the Ghost would be angry with her if they let them assume it was an insult.</p><p>… They paused to think of their other selves, in that short-lived dream.</p><p>
  <em>She isn’t wrong. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Again, you say so?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>She would mean it literally.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>But your mask is no longer cracked.</strong>
</p><p>Truly, the Ghost of Hallownest baffled them in so many ways, but perhaps it was better this way.</p><p>They didn’t have the heart to correct their small sibling.</p><p>
  <em>… Yes. </em>
</p><p>The Ghost didn’t comment further as they opted to move closer to them, instead. Now positioned at their side, their small sibling inclined their neck to look up to the White Lady.</p><p>“My spawn.” The Lady continued. She did not coo like Midwife, and showed no affection, in spite of having saved them just moments ago. Her chin was tipped down, as it seemed she was looking more at the floor than either of them. “Already one of its kind has come from a place faraway, and many times has it returned to the place of my dwelling. I cannot sense a reason why it and the impure thing return now, though I can give it my… gratitude. For a moment, I thought that my Beloved Wyrm had come, but it wasn’t so. The intruders were dealt with, but the Fierce one isn’t who comes to tell me. Something must have befallen dear Dryya, and the realization pains me so.”</p><p>Judging by the appearance of her corpse, Fierce Dryya had been dead for a while, and the White Lady had never known. It would be better, that way. It would be too sad of a thing to spite the lady with the truth.</p><p>They continued to listen as she continued rambled to herself.</p><p>“But the Vessels… both returned. At so pertinent a time.”</p><p>There was clear hesitance, as the White Lady remained stationary in her bindings. She wasn’t directly speaking to them, so much as she was talking to herself. In all her foreign magnanimity, she never seemed as weak as she did in this moment.</p><p>“… But. I have nothing more to give.” She said quietly. “… I do not know what it wants.”</p><p>The cocoon itself seemed to shift, as the lady looked through both of them. They felt the pains of being scrutinized all at once again, as their memories from the White Palace haunted them.</p><p>The White Lady… was their superior.</p><p>She was the Queen of Hallownest, and wife of the Pale King. She was many things, but not a mother to them. She gave them orders, she allowed them to be in her presence during matters of importance, though often times they would be sent away from her. She took greater pleasure in the company of Dryya, Herrah, and Hornet when the spiderling came to visit. Their presence in her gardens were only permitted then, and they choose to pretend as if they weren't aware of such a fact.</p><p>They remembered there were instances where she couldn’t tolerate them in the slightest. They had comforted themselves by playing into the distance, and seeking refuge in the Pale King’s company instead. Even if they were only to be the King’s Shadow. Even if it was just an illusion of acceptance.</p><p>Her gaze was cold, and unwelcoming.</p><p>“I ask this of it;" She intoned. "If it has no further business here, leave me to my penance.”</p><p>The Ghost was more than ready to agree.</p><p><strong>She’s right. </strong> <strong>We should leave. </strong></p><p>As they looked to their large sibling, they were slightly taken aback to see the Hollow Knight silently refuse.</p><p>
  <strong>Sibling?</strong>
</p><p>They stayed put.</p><p>With nail in hand, the Hollow Knight stared at the White Lady.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was a tough one to write; I'm sorry if it's hard to follow. I had a lot in the initial draft, and I decided to revamp some parts and split it into two  for the sake of thematic pacing. </p><p>I hope it reads well, and as always, thank you for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The White Lady couldn’t accept them because they were her antithesis. She was a being of nature, and they were anything but natural. She was distancing herself as to not be hurt. She was afraid of them.</p><p>She couldn’t think of them as her children— or she would be destroyed.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Sibling?</strong>
</p><p>The Ghost was more than confused with their actions, they realized. The White Lady, too, looked on, with her unseeing gaze. She had only asked, not ordered.</p><p>The intent was plainly presented, however—she wanted to be left alone.</p><p>But…</p><p>“… It does not listen. Can it hear at all?” The Lady spoke to herself. “After spending time untold empowered by that thing, has it gained a resistance? Does it retain an echo of the plague’s hatred? I cannot sense it. Further, does my spawn allude me. Both no longer would have a reason to return to this retreat with our bond taken and future already claimed. Yet both came in a time of need with death at the door, and Dryya fallen. Why does it appear to remove it? Why does it deny an end? … Already have I wondered whether the Vessels were truly my own, but surely, it cannot be.” She didn’t shake her head, for the number of roots embedded in the cocoon prevented her from doing so. “It cannot be.”</p><p>She was only met with further silence, and the Ghost was becoming uncomfortable. Through the Void Heart, they were expressing sentiments that the Hollow Knight could not find answers for.</p><p>They only stood stationary, and waited.</p><p>“… Why does it stay?” The White Lady asked.</p><p>She should have already known full well that they were incapable of giving her a verbal response, due to the King’s design. Their small sibling could have benefited most from having a voice. They had so much to say, but there was nothing they could do to convey it.</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest only stood there, doing all they could not to physically tremble, as the White Lady continued ignoring them both. </p><p>“… The seeds that lie adrift within the cruel ocean of void, consumed— dead, before any of it could truly be born, and sprout. But Vessels emerged from the cradle of that cold place. Such flowers, unlike root but void, though much like my beloved Wyrm have bloomed. Void was power without focus. Void was emptiness. My spawn exemplify those traits, and not my own, though they share a piece of me. … The things born could not be mine.”</p><p>Their small sibling could only stand there and listen, their feelings bursting though their Void Heart. The Ghost of Hallownest wanted to leave. They didn’t want to be anywhere near her, but at the same time, they yearned for comfort. She was wrong about the void being cruel. About it being empty—and on top of that, she was denying them.</p><p>She was rejecting them, effectively, and the Hollow Knight understood why.</p><p>The White Lady couldn’t accept them because they were her antithesis. She was a being of nature, and they were anything but natural. She was distancing herself as to not be hurt. She was afraid of them.</p><p>She couldn’t think of them as her children— or she would be destroyed.</p><p>They felt, that there was some fault in their past act for this. Their memories differed from their small sibling’s, who couldn’t understand— But they knew now for certain that she couldn’t stand them.</p><p>The Hollow Knight understood the weight of their sibling’s hurt reaction, but couldn’t bring themselves to move. They considered it carefully.</p><p>Leaving right now would have been the greatest act of free will they could showcase to the White Lady.</p><p>But…</p><p>Something bothered them.</p><p>Why had she healed them, if she felt that way?</p><p>It would have been easier to let them nurse their own wounds, or leave them for dead, than asking their sibling to drag them here.</p><p>How had they drawn her power as their own?</p><p>The Pale King was emphatic to them, that there were consequences to shaping another’s soul as they had. Though it was spilt, the White Lady’s dominion was still over nature. She could have easily smote them for using her soul against her.</p><p>They looked on.</p><p>“… How I wonder. Though it would know it isn’t mine.” She intoned. “Why does it<em> stay? </em> Does it want something?” A tinge of desperation betrayed her, as she blinked her eyes. “There is nothing to offer. … I have nothing I can give it.”</p><p>She repeated it to herself again.</p><p>Was it true?</p><p>Were they staying because they wanted something from her?</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest looked at them questioningly and then looked to the entrance, which might have been torn apart by the mantises, or by the Ghost themselves in an attempt to fit them into this chamber.</p><p>Even without words, it was very clear their small sibling wanted to leave.</p><p>They were apologetic for it, but they felt they couldn’t leave yet.</p><p>“It has no further business remaining here. Leave, Vessel.”</p><p>The tone she used almost made them go rigid.</p><p>They fought against this kneejerk reaction, and stayed at the risk of angering her.</p><p>The memory came to them then, as they gazed up at her. It had been so long ago, that the similarities of this situation had been lost on them, initially.</p><p>In the White Palace, while they were still small, there was a nursery she had made for them. It had only been in instances where they had collapsed from rigorous training sessions where they were brought to that nursery, and she took it personally upon herself to care for them.</p><p>They remembered the sight of her sitting in a chair by the crib’s side, and the faint strains of a song.</p><p>These veiled instances diminished over time, until she no longer would attend to them.</p><p>…</p><p>In her own way, maybe the Lady had been searching for some proof that they were only just a child, so she could love them. Maybe in those early days when they were brought to the castle, she was scrutinizing them to find some flaw with the Pale King’s plan— not because she hated them, but of the thousands that perished, she held onto a sliver of hope that she could be a mother. Just for one of them— but that couldn’t be.</p><p>It was never meant to be.</p><p>Their act had been so convincing, that she gave up on it entirely, perhaps. She had been despondent, and refused their presence— But when they were sealed away, why did she choose to leave the court and bind herself in such a state?</p><p>If no one came for her, she would have died.</p><p>In consideration to the one entombed, they knew that Higher beings had two deaths: Physical, and when they were forgotten.</p><p>In this new age, who would know that the White Lady was still here? It would have been a final death.</p><p>Against their sibling’s wishes, on their own, the Hollow Knight stepped forward.</p><p>“Why does it approach me?” She asked.</p><p>They weren’t sure of the answer.</p><p>To the Lady in all her bindings, perhaps this act was out of obligation. Perhaps it was just the nature of void was to accept everything, even when rejected.</p><p>But barring their own nature of being, perhaps there was an echo of fondness in their heart that they found willingly. It went against all logic and they knew it. They had no real reason to do any of this, and they were well within their rights to abandon her. It was her choice to be bound and remain a prisoner of the past, to stay here in her isolation as a means of repenting— but to understand this and willfully leave her without trying— without at least attempting some kind of understanding, felt wrong.</p><p>Not when someone else was persistently trying to liberate them from their own chains.</p><p>… Not when they found the strength to stand on their own.</p><p>They took another step.</p><p>“Is it here to enact judgement itself?” The air was charged with tension.</p><p>It dawned on them then, that that too, was a possibility.</p><p>But it was also unspoken that the Lady was still a Higher Being. A Goddess. If she really wanted, even with the bindings surrounding her body, she could have killed them where they stood. Or was she holding herself back? The mantises themselves could have been, in theory, little consequence. Instead, it was as if she laid her neck out for the guillotine to claim.</p><p>… Had she wanted death?</p><p>“Is it here to haunt me before my final moments?”</p><p>They couldn’t answer.</p><p>They continued forward, until they were directly before the Lady.</p><p>They stood their nail in front of them, tip planted firmly into the ground.</p><p>They waited.</p><p>They waited in front of her, as Ghost looked on— silently protesting the act, but remaining where they were to respect their wishes.</p><p>If she spurned them, they would leave, and not return. Whatever fate would befall her from this point on would not be their business, though she would be queen. They entertained that thought, but in truth, they couldn’t be so cruel. That would only reinforce her notion of what Void was. Of what they supposedly were.</p><p>However, what remained true was that Hallownest was not hers any longer, but the deciding factor of her absolution was at hand.</p><p>They waited.</p><p>The silence was palpable as she looked at them with her milky blue eyes. As they studied her face, they thought idly to themselves that they must have taken after her in stature. What an odd thing to realize so late.</p><p>They tilted their head down slightly, and waited.</p><p>It felt like an eternity. If they had taken any more after her, perhaps they could have been rooted to the spot, too. But as they thought so, something happened.</p><p>Around them, tendrils began to unroot themselves from the ground. The Lady’s roots began to snake upwards and reach, as if examining and reacquainting with them. They allowed this. Her touch was ginger initially, before she reached their armless side.</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Her voice betrayed her.</p><p>Her touch was trembling, they realized. It could have been from fear, or the coldness of their body. More, she reached until she finally met their face.</p><p>In the greatest act of free will, on their own volition, they pressed their head into her hold.</p><p>They awaited a final rejection, and to be told first-hand that they were tarnished. To be denied, and assured of their impurity. If she had said so, even if it would earn their small sibling’s ire, they would accept it without fault.</p><p>For having failed, maybe they awaited judgement of their own.</p><p>They did this for just a moment— declaring their imperfection, their awareness, and awaiting admonishment for it.</p><p>But much to their surprise, she held them there.</p><p>In that moment, her queenly façade shattered into pieces.</p><p>“You…” She finally acknowledged them.</p><p>For the first time they could ever recall, she didn’t call them ‘it’. She dropped her gaze, as she held them, and they allowed her to continue doing it.</p><p>“… I could not stand it. Looking at you only served as reminder.”</p><p>No longer did she seem as godly, as she confessed, and hung her head as low as she could. Her touch trembled, as she no longer held onto the guise of a queen.</p><p>“So many seeds were laid to rest in that cold place, but only <em>one</em> would survive. Only <em>one</em> would be saved— But all of them damned, all by our choice to maintain perpetuity. I had remained passive in the matter, and for what? When the sealing was done, he told me that the future had not changed. When the realization came to us, it broke us, and fractured our Union.” She lamented openly. “It was for nothing—<em> It was all for nothing</em>. And if it was so, then all of them— all of them laid to rest in that place— should have been spared.”</p><p>They knew, then.</p><p>The Pale Being before them, was nothing but a leftover goddess that couldn’t move on— literally, and figuratively.</p><p>The White Lady was an Origin that refused her instinct to bring life into the world, and what life was brought in her attempt to propagate before— not even they were sure if they could carry on her legacy, for the potential of being genetic dead ends. She had surrendered all that she could give— her children, her instinct, her bond, her majesty, and remained, in spite of everything.</p><p>She was right when she said that she had nothing left to give.</p><p>Perhaps she remained here because she wanted to wither away and be forgotten. In that respect, maybe it would have been kinder to leave her for dead— But to wake her from her dream before that end, too, felt necessary.</p><p>And supposing that, they thought that they had come here to be judged, but understood now that maybe they came to give her release. </p><p>A confession like this wouldn’t make everything better; to think it so would be too idealistic, even for them. She had never been kind prior, and to expect more would be folly. It had been the Lady’s choice to treat them as she did for all that time.</p><p>But still; the time of stasis was over. But what would happen after this moment, they did not know.</p><p>That would entirely be her choice.</p><p>…</p><p>The lady continued to mourn in silence, as the Hollow Knight stood before her. After a time, slowly, they raised their head away from her hold. She withdrew from them, and raised her head in turn.</p><p>She seemed to be deep in thought for the longest while, before she spoke.</p><p>"Children of Root, Wyrm, and Void. Permit me one last act, before you leave this abode for the final time."</p><p>She blinked her eyes at them, and looked to them both.</p><p>"Will you allow this of me?"</p><p>That was no longer their request to answer.</p><p>The Hollow Knight turned briefly to look at the Ghost of Hallownest, and waited. </p><p>There were no words. Nothing needed to be spoken. Their small sibling looked on, before gingerly, and hesitantly stepping forward to join their larger sibling. In a rare moment of vulnerability, they seemed unsure of themselves. The Hollow Knight acknowledged and understood that the Ghost didn’t need to give up their own sense of comfort. They owed her nothing.</p><p>They would never fault them for it for keeping their distance from the Lady.</p><p>They had been no different.</p><p>As such, to her request, they elected to stay put. She understood.</p><p>What she had given them would be enough.</p><p>But as open as the Ghost was, they also understood that there was something they were refusing to admit to. The White Lady had laid them out in the open just as thoughtlessly, in regards to the ‘many times’ she acknowledged that the Ghost returned to her dwelling. They were hurt by her rejection for the same reason they were in the past, and suffered that resentment more than they.</p><p>But there was no need to shame them for it.</p><p>Perhaps, they had stayed and silently revealed themselves, because the needs of those around them were greater. </p><p>The Lady looked to their small sibling.</p><p>For the first and last time, the White Lady lifted the little Ghost onto her lap with delicate consideration. The Ghost of Hallownest stayed there, confused, as if unsure what they were supposed to do.  They had never seemed so small, until this moment, as they allowed themselves to be cradled. Much like the child they had long forgotten they were, they rested in the lap of the White Lady, as she gently stroked their back, closed her eyes, and hummed that age old lullaby.</p><p>Memories of the nursery came to the Hollow Knight, as she did.  How the lights and architecture of the White Palace at times felt too unnatural and rigid, and how the Lady's presence was a great comfort to the Pale King. How she graced the walls with trellises of flowers and vines, bringing with her, a sense of life and wonder. The smell of flowers and earth followed her wherever she went. In a way, she had always been an enigma to them. God-like. More plant, less bug. Never a mother.</p><p>Never a mother, they thought, as their mind drifted to the cradle they had long outgrown, and they listened to her song.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Without incident, the Ghost of Hallownest had fallen asleep.</p><p>Seeing this, the Hollow Knight removed their hands off of their nail's guard, and finally stowed it away. With delicate consideration, stooped to pick up their small sibling into their hold, as they had done for Hornet. They lifted their small sibling into their arm- they weighed almost nothing, to them.</p><p>At the same time, as they did so, gently, the White Lady withdrew.</p><p>Her tendrils settled back into the ground, as if they had never moved at all. She was weakening by the second, they realized- and she had endured, and remained, all for this moment. The damage done to her was more fatal than they thought- but maybe she would have been spared from this fate, if she chose not to heal them. </p><p>The White Lady looked at them longingly, but stayed where she was.</p><p>“Do not feel sympathy for me.” She simply murmured. “It was just reward.”</p><p>They weren't willing to give their life for her, however. That was never what they intended. But even so, they didn't feel sympathy, or pity towards her. She didn't seem to regret her choice, either. Maybe there was a semblance of gratitude towards her, for playing her part and giving them life. </p><p>If only that.</p><p>They met her gaze, as the pale light around her began to dim.</p><p>She sighed.</p><p>“…A final reverie of motherhood I thought I would not be granted, when this deliverance came. Long ago, that dream of mine died with all of you.” She spoke with finality. Her light was fading before their very eyes. “… I thank you, child. For bringing final, conclusive comfort as the end arrives; I am at peace knowing Spring comes, and life continues anew. … I wonder what new garden Hallownest shall grow, in time…?”</p><p>She closed her eyes, and laughed peacefully. It reverberated in the cavern, twinkling, like dewdrops falling from flower petals. Like harp strings being plucked.</p><p>It was the first, and only time, they would ever hear such a sound.</p><p>“Be well on your way.” She whispered. "Dear Wyrm is calling."</p><p>They wished they could understand.</p><p>It was then, the Last Knight of Hallownest bowed their head to the Queen.</p><p>With their sleeping sibling in their arm, they left the White Lady to her quietus.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for 100 Kudos. There's not much to say, but I hope you'll keep reading to the end.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Ghost of Hallownest took great offense to that, and stared with such an intensity that they could have bored a third hole in their new mask. Maybe even given them a new crack. Their void burbled and churned in response, akin to a tea kettle at a roiling boil. They were fuming. </p><p>At such a reaction, the larger sibling’s shoulders shook silently, and slightly, much to their smaller sibling’s shock. </p><p>They were laughing in response. </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bold is the Knight, and Italics is our Protagonist.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time Hornet had arrived, there was no turning back.</p><p>Willfully, the Lady had sealed off the entry to her retreat behind them. It had only taken moments for them to realize it and the telltale had been obvious.</p><p>Flowers had bloomed in her wake, and the Glade had burst into blossom.</p><p>Color painted their vision, as the White Lady bid them farewell. Petals fluttered through the air, silently, like tears, which she could not shed.</p><p>They didn’t give their sister an explanation.</p><p>They only offered to her the sleeping form of their small sibling, and bade her to go towards the direction of the Stag Station. They had no voice to explain. No compulsion to elaborate.</p><p>They only beckoned to Hornet to take the Ghost of Hallownest somewhere safe, for they had business left to attend to— it was so simply understood, that she stated where she would wait for them.</p><p>She demanded—not ordered— that they would meet with them there.</p><p>That was all they needed.</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest would later ask them what happened.</p><p>Why they had awoken at the Stag Station with Hornet sitting next to them, on that bench. About what had happened to the White Lady. They were much like a child, but inherently, surely, they must have already known the truth.</p><p>What their sibling would not ask them, was what became of the rest of the Mantis Traitors. They wouldn’t see the aftermath until a different time. They wouldn’t realize the absence of the tents, nor would they know of their sibling’s act of wrath until later.</p><p>But that day, when the three of them left the Queen’s Glade on the back of the Last Stag, there were no more intruders left to defile it.</p><p>The Lady’s garden would be allowed to blossom in peace.</p><p>The Hollow Knight had made certain of it.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Whether it was a sad or happy occurrence, life continued.</p><p>Time continued to pass unfalteringly, as they searched for the wind that beckoned to them. Even now, the Queen’s Glade continued to flower, and they remembered the White Lady’s words.</p><p>‘Spring’, she had said.</p><p>Perhaps this was Spring.</p><p>Meanwhile, in a harsher place of dampness, glass and stone, the City of Tears seemed more haunted than before. Silence hung over the spires and there was a conspicuous lack of light— they remembered that lumafly light used to dot the windows, and give the city a sense of life.</p><p>Though devoid of life, to some extent, it retained its sense of wonder.</p><p>At least, they thought so, as they looked upon the last edition to Hallownest’s Heart, that they had heard of, but not seen until now.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>MEMORIAL TO THE HOLLOW KNIGHT</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>In the Black Vault far above.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Such an elaborate gravestone, that their father made for them.</p><p>They found themselves at a loss while they stared at it; the feeling was complicated, beyond what words they knew or possessed.</p><p>But to see themselves through the eyes of their father, and perhaps how Hallownest viewed them—</p><p>They wondered…</p><p>
  <strong>Was growing up scary?</strong>
</p><p>The question had come so suddenly, that they almost didn’t know what to think.</p><p>Their sibling had come to join them at some point, and they never realized. What a correct namesake, that Hornet had given them.</p><p>Water continued its never ending downpour, as they found themselves taken by the ambience of rain on glass, and visage of themselves, left by the King to honor them. Slowly, they tore their gaze away, from the monument that stood in the heart of Hallownest, in the City of Tears.</p><p>All the while, they wondered how to answer the Ghost’s question.</p><p>
  <em>It was necessary. </em>
</p><p>They answered plainly. That felt like the most logical answer.</p><p>
  <strong>But did you <em>want </em> to grow up?</strong>
</p><p>They… had to think about that.</p><p>Growing up was an inevitable thing. They said as much already that it was a privilege that their multitude of siblings would not have. But had they wanted to grow up?</p><p>It was an odd thing. </p><p>Here they were, a fully-grown vessel, pondering the logistics of reaching adulthood despite already being there. </p><p>They might have wanted it. In their earnest adoration, in their desire to please their father, there were instances that came to memory.</p><p>They might have felt that way. </p><p>But, it was hard. There may have been days where they resented it. Their growth wasn’t accelerated and had happened over a period of time— but with their later instars where they had gained height, the adjustment was painstaking, and something they had to quickly adapt to lest someone judge their impurity.</p><p>The training had been strenuous as they were taught all matter of things in combination of the great knights, and by the Pale King himself. Trained in nail, soul, and void, though they did not openly express their affinity for the last of those things. </p><p>But this statue expressed none of those things. It had no nail. Their stature was perfectly replicated, however, as the recognized the three smaller statutes around them were representative of the Dreamers.</p><p>Their thoughts wandered.</p><p>Their cracked, pure nail was kept, but they found it somewhat unwieldy; the weight itself was perfectly measured for them, but the lack of their arm…</p><p>A dull ache settled on their chest as they registered it again. It had been pointed out many times, they had traversed without it— they had fought multiple times already and acknowledged it, but they were really missing an arm, weren’t they?</p><p>
  <strong>Do you miss it?</strong>
</p><p>The Hollow Knight lowered their head slightly.</p><p>They hadn’t realized they were thinking aloud.</p><p>
  <em>At times. </em>
</p><p>There was a consoling feeling, as if the little ghost was trying to say they were doing just fine. That they were still incredibly strong even without their right hand. They could use soul in a way they couldn’t, and could even teleport. But even so, their small sibling acknowledged that the change must have been drastic— especially after having it for all their life, before the infection.</p><p>They seemed apologetic.</p><p>
  <strong>I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>You need not be.</em>
</p><p>They hoped that dismissal would have quelled the Ghost’s concerns. But there was a strange note to all of this, that the Hollow Knight couldn’t place.</p><p>The feeling echoed, and their small sibling looked out towards their solemn visage beheld in the fountain.</p><p>
  <strong>… For all this time, I have been thinking about what you said to me.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>About my memories, and having been sent outside the kingdom.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Do you think I could have wandered endlessly in the wasteland as a rogue vessel?</strong>
</p><p>… Were they not already rogue?</p><p>Granted, they were turned upon the Kingdom of Hallownest instead of the wastelands beyond.</p><p>As they conveyed that notion, the little ghost sulked at them, their void blustering with the same intent as puffed cheeks. There was a semblance of wounded feelings as the Ghost looked up at them again, with their soulful, but empty gaze. They had wanted to laugh, but refrained from doing so.</p><p>The Hollow Knight offered a silent apology in recompense, and knelt down to pat their head.</p><p>How childish, their smallest sibling seemed. But they had to remind themselves, that they were still a child, in many ways yet.</p><p>But all the same, they canted their head at the other as they stood together at the Fountain. Something weighed deep within the fathomless void of their sibling’s soul. On their own, they offered a silent inquiry. They wanted to know.</p><p>With their head tipped downward, the Ghost confessed.</p><p>
  <strong>I think you called me here, to Hallownest. </strong>
</p><p>… They might have. </p><p>They didn’t know if the answer was as clear cut, as they did remember crying out when the pain being too much at one instance, when the Old Light bled through the void of their soul. But they had no voice— how could have anyone heard them?</p><p>How could the Ghost have heard them, from beyond the Kingdom, if that were the case?</p><p>
  <strong>I don’t know.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>But I must have heard you. </strong>
</p><p>They insisted.</p><p>
  <strong>I had a friend named Quirrel who felt something similar.</strong>
</p><p>They received a mental image of a Pillbug with a blue kerchief over their head; in a different, glancing image of them, he sat on a bench, looking over the City of Tears. There, he had been using a familiar mask as a hat of sorts. The Ghost had met him many times in their advent, it seemed. From the lush of the Lake of Unn, to the locale of the Mantis Village. From the heights of the Crystal Peak, all the way to the hot springs of Deepnest.</p><p>In the last memory shared, the Pillbug had been looking over the pristine surface of the blue lake, cross-legged with a serene expression.</p><p>
  <strong>Quirrel was called back to Hallownest by Monomon. </strong>
</p><p>The Teacher, was it?</p><p>If they focused hard enough, maybe the shape of that jellyfish came to mind.</p><p>Monomon was the rambling sort, and had a voracious thirst for knowledge. She was also a regular visitor whenever the Pale King fretted over their condition, for whatever reason. Perhaps, if the little ghost was to grow anymore, they would have to take great care in keeping vigil for them, too. </p><p>They didn’t convey that, however, as their small sibling seemed to be deep in thought. </p><p>
  <strong>Monomon wanted the seals to break. </strong>
</p><p>They blinked at that.</p><p>How surprising in consideration to the fact she consented to becoming a dreamer— but she was of a brilliant mind. Perhaps she already knew they weren’t pure, but there was no sense in dwelling in that thought.</p><p>Quirrel was likely an assistant of hers, if he had come in possession of her mask— or was entrusted with it, rather.</p><p>But the Hollow Knight being alive now, spoke for itself as to what the little ghost did to the Dreamers; to Herrah, Lurien, and Monomon. </p><p>All no longer here. </p><p>
  <strong>Did you know them?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Yes. </em>
</p><p>Guilt clung to the little ghost, like their own shadow. </p><p>
  <strong>Quirrel isn’t here either anymore.</strong>
</p><p>Teacher and assistant, both vanished with the end of an age. The Beast of Deepnest and Watcher of the City of Tears, were no more, either. The little ghost was woeful, as their head tipped downward. Their mind was in a place of memories and the like, as faces the Hollow Knight did not recognize blinked in and out, like foam bubbles. The White Lady was the most recent edition.</p><p>Truly. If anyone could have benefited from having a voice, it was the Ghost of Hallownest. All these thoughts and stories that they would never be able to tell; in a way, the Hollow Knight thought of the Mask Maker. Vessels were no different than containers in a certain regard, and much like the Hollow Knight, the little ghost kept and clung to what fond memories they had. They had met enough stragglers in this abandoned kingdom to gain a will of their own, but at what cost?</p><p>A certain murmur belonging to a voice that had already left them long ago, had the answer, in a way.</p><p>They could keep that to themselves.</p><p>More importantly, the little ghost was troubled by something, and was struggling to convey the sentiment.</p><p>Though they conveyed to them before that they would not treat them as a child for being clutchmates, the temptation grew, somewhat. Perhaps that meant they felt close enough to feel that way.</p><p>But they chose to wait for their small sibling to convey the feelings they were searching for.</p><p>
  <strong>Sibling.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Does growing up mean that you lose things?</strong>
</p><p>The Hollow Knight canted their head. </p><p>
  <em>What do you mean?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Almost everyone who I’ve met on this journey to find you, is gone, except for our Sister.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Will things always be like this? </strong>
</p><p>Traversing through a ruined, infected Hallownest, could not have been a thrilling time.</p><p>Unconsciously, if the Ghost had returned to Hallownest to become another link in the chain of conflict, perhaps it was the encounters of those they had met that dissuaded them— and with those experiences giving them greater soul and will, they chose to settle for breaking the cycle entirely with their heart of void. </p><p>What an enigma, their smallest sibling was. To be capable of so much; to have no burden to start with, but repeatedly, they had taken upon the wishes of others. What tempered their strength came at the cost of their innocence, in their own right.</p><p>But there was something else.</p><p>When presented with that notion, the little ghost hung their head.</p><p>Once again, there was something that they didn’t want to say.</p><p>There was a lingering thought in the air that went unspoken, but the Hollow Knight received the sentiment. It was a fear, perhaps. Maybe even a nightmare. It was the sum of many things, as they had another realization— that this longing, hurt sentiment, was one that couldn’t be solved without words.</p><p>At least, if there was such a method, they were incapable of that.</p><p>Particularly, they felt like a hug would be due later, but not now.</p><p>But what remained true was that between themselves and the Ghost of Hallownest, is that they had lived. They were both born at the same time, but only one of them was allowed the privilege to reach adulthood. When they left their Birthplace, they had only gained things, at the cost of themselves—not unlike their smallest sibling. </p><p>The Hollow Knight lowered their head.</p><p>
  <em>I do not think so.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>What do you mean?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I think… … It is the same as our purpose, outgrown. </em>
</p><p>They paused, to take a moment of self-deprecating amusement at what they were doing. They were openly admitting to thinking—but they shook their head slightly, and continued.</p><p>
  <em>Permit me to ask you a question.</em>
</p><p>The Ghost was confused, but nodded.</p><p>
  <strong>What is it?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Do <strong>you</strong> want to grow up?</em>
</p><p>The ghost remained silent, as they stared up at their large sibling.</p><p>
  <em>The stasis of Hallownest is over, by your own doing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Time will forward from this point on. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Things will continue to change, whether we are ready for it or not— but who can say that things will always change for the worse? … That we will only lose things from this point forward?</em>
</p><p>The Pale King could have had an answer to that. Whatever the answer was, the scion wouldn’t know it. They lacked foresight— they originally had no hopes held towards the future, much less being a part of it. </p><p>The future was foreign and unpredictable by nature, much like their void-hearted sibling.</p><p>But perhaps, that’s why no one was more qualified than them, to usher in Hallownest’s future.</p><p>
  <em>I don’t doubt that for as long as we live, we may go through countless meetings and partings. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>We may think of times bygone, or yearn for what we no longer have. To keep what we treasure close. Our circumstances have always been out of our control, though our experiences are things that have shaped us.</em>
</p><p>The Hollow Knight murmured.</p><p>
  <em>Ghost. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You asked me if I wanted to grow up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I could not answer you prior, because I did not know the answer— but allow me to tell you a story.</em>
</p><p>They paused, and rose to their full stature.</p><p>Turning away from the Ghost, they looked up to their immortalized form.</p><p>
  <em>Pure Vessel and Hollow Knight I was once called, and attended to by the Pale King. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Raised to prime form, to be the ultimate sacrifice as designated by this King— and failed in the one purpose that so many of our siblings were born, and all but us have died for. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>How long I held onto that impossible, forlorn hope to contain the Infection, I don’t know. Time was irrelevant. A second in there could have been the same as a day. Within the Black Egg where I was left to hang, I was steeled in my resolve, but she burned me from the inside out. If I wasn’t hollow before, I became hollow then, as I realized the truth of it all. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I failed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The bugs of Hallownest suffered for it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Countless lives were the cost, all at my inability, even in a time where I was stronger yet, and whole.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Perhaps those who know the truth could say that all of our siblings’ deaths were for nothing, simply because of my existence alone. I am a failure. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Perhaps others would think of me as a victim, or that the Pale King was a failure and a coward in many regards towards his handling of the Infection. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe I would even agree to some extent, but that doesn’t absolve me of guilt. </em>
</p><p>They lowered their head.</p><p>
  <em>And yet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>If he truly wanted me hollow, he should have just sealed me in the Black Egg immediately after he found me. </em>
</p><p>They silently scoffed.</p><p>
  <em>If nothing, it would have been <strong>incredibly</strong> efficient.</em>
</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest took great offense to that, and stared with such an intensity that they could have bored a third hole in their new mask. Maybe even given them a new crack. Their void burbled and churned in response, akin to a tea kettle at a roiling boil. They were fuming. </p><p>At such a reaction, the larger sibling’s shoulders shook silently, and slightly, much to their smaller sibling’s shock. </p><p>They were laughing in response. </p><p>
  <strong>How?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>How is it that you can still laugh?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I wonder that myself. </em>
</p><p>It wasn’t as if it was an unpleasant feeling. Maybe they wondered now, what the sound of their own laughter would be.</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest stared, dumbfounded, as their large sibling turned to look at them.</p><p>
  <em>Ghost— you asked me if I wanted to grow up, and my answer is that I could not have cared if I remained the size of a hatchling, or not. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Then— why did you grow up?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I wonder. </em>
</p><p>They mused openly, as they stared at their own visage with vague traces of mirth, as their realization came to them.</p><p>
  <em>It dawns on me now that I was never the one who desired adulthood. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was none other than the king who I would call Father, that wanted to see it.</em>
</p><p>It was such a thought.</p><p>It would be such a heartrending thing, if it were true.</p><p>Another epiphany to add to the pile. They would probably feel horrible in some capacity for breaking all the rules of their rearing later— maybe even chide themselves for indulging in a delusion, that a Higher Being like the Pale King would have wanted to see his Pure Vessel grown to adulthood…</p><p>But it seemed undeniable— after all.</p><p>If the Ghost of Hallownest chose the path of perpetuation and usurped them as Vessel, they needn’t be grown to contain the Old Light. </p><p>How truly incomprehensible.</p><p>The Pale King was just as much of an enigma as the little ghost, but maybe they only thought that because they never stopped to think. </p><p>They lowered their head, with something like a smile as their eyes crinkled slightly. It held relief, sadness, and melancholy. It felt bitter, and yet…</p><p>
  <em>There was much that was lost, for any of this to happen. Who can judge?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Should it be a contest of who was hurt the most?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I don’t know. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I do not care for such a process.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Kingdom might have fallen, but others still live. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>As such: if someone were to say it was all for naught, I would refute it every time.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Why? </strong>
</p><p>They paused, as they remembered the past experiences, up until this point.</p><p>
  <em>Because we succeeded, thanks to you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>What it took to achieve this result may be pitiable, but it wasn’t it vain. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It might have been the more painful path, but it wasn’t for nothing. After all; time moves forward, now.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Beyond loneliness and stagnation, lies something new that no one in this kingdom could bring— except for you, who came from beyond.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You saved me, Ghost of Hallownest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Four times already, you have done so.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And if you would continue to think I am worth something, that there was something so meaningful in this tragedy that you sought to break the cycle of Hallownest’s perpetuation, then it wasn’t for naught.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You were the one who decided to challenge that fate. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Because your acts inspire us to be more, we, in turn, urge ourselves to reciprocate that kindness. To wake from our dreams and pursue tomorrow— Even if it means the end would come as a result of moving forward. </em>
</p><p>Silence hung in the air, for a time.</p><p>The Ghost was picking their words carefully  they realized.</p><p>As to not make a misstep.</p><p>As to not dishonor the ones they had met, and lost.</p><p>
  <strong>If so… then of all things, why do you think others would desire an end?</strong>
</p><p>In turn, they thought about what they wanted to convey, carefully, too.</p><p>
  <em>Perhaps, because not all endings are sad.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And that what comes next, could be something worth living for.</em>
</p><p>The Ghost was quelled, at this thought. Before anything more could be said and conveyed in that moment, the splashing and pitter-patter of Hornet’s almost silent footsteps alerted them to her presence. She held an umbrella aloft, and tipped it over the Ghost of Hallownest.</p><p>She looked to their large sibling, with a second umbrella, and offered it to them.</p><p>“I know not how you both can stand in this cold for such an indefinite time.” She mused. “… Or were you talking to each other again?”</p><p>Both siblings, large and small, nodded.</p><p>“I see. Was I interrupting?”</p><p>They both shook their head. To that, Hornet’s expression seemed to ease, as the Ghost of Hallownest moved— making grabbing motions with their paws. They wanted to hold the umbrella, and she obliged. As if their shared introspection hadn’t taken place at all, the Ghost tottered and ambled with the umbrella in hand, and jumped into a puddle playfully. They held it upside-down to collect water.</p><p>Hornet’s sigh of exasperation amused them.</p><p>“An umbrella is meant to keep you dry, Little Ghost.” She shook her head. “Not for that.”</p><p>It was then she looked to them. Despite being under the threat of rain herself, Hornet continued to hold out the second umbrella to them— of which they politely declined.</p><p>She scowled.</p><p>“Knight. You aren’t denying care from me to earn my ire, are you?”</p><p>They shook their head.</p><p>The answer was much plainer than that.</p><p>They were simply too big.</p><p>But thoughtfully, they took the umbrella. They pondered what to do with it, before deciding to open it, and hunched over— holding it over their sister’s head.</p><p>To shield Hornet from the rain.</p><p>“I swear.” She huffed at them. “You’re just as troublesome as Ghost.”</p><p>Again, they didn’t know how they could stand to that comparison. Perhaps Hornet could see something that they couldn’t.</p><p>All the same.</p><p>The Little Ghost obediently tottered back to their larger siblings, with the drenched umbrella in hand. After dumping the accrued water by turning it right-side up, they fumbled for a moment to close it. Once it was managed, they jumped— in the most mundane use they had seen for the Monarch’s Wings yet, they perched on their Sibling’s shoulder, and opened the umbrella.</p><p>Hornet folded her arms at this arrangement, but didn’t protest it. In all likelihood, this wasn’t how she was expecting things to go, but that was fine, too.</p><p>“Let’s get out of the rain and warm up. I want you both to tell me of what conversations you’ve had, too.” She murmured, as she started a slow, but relaxed stride. “With some persuasion, I’m certain that relic seeker may find it fit to lend chalk, if nothing else.”</p><p>Their small sibling eagerly nodded at the prospect.</p><p>But themselves?</p><p>They thought aloud, as they walked.</p><p>
  <em>… Ghost. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Yes?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>If you should desire to reach adulthood, do so. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I think there would be many, beyond just me, who would wish to see you grown as well.</em>
</p><p>Their small sibling didn’t respond, and they couldn’t see them to gauge their body language. A certain thoughtfulness was welling through their void-hearted bond, as they drew close to the doorway. Maybe it was a kind of yearning, or excitement at the thought.</p><p>That was enough to know they were being listened to.</p><p>The ghost closed the umbrella smoothly, as they lowered their head considerately. They also followed suit as to not bump their horns or worse yet, hit their small sibling with the doorway. They waited for Hornet to enter first, before stepping through themselves.</p><p>They could endure another round with the Relic Seeker, for their siblings’ sakes. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Interlude II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hornet shook her head at the memory as it came to her. In truth, she knew the Weaver to be right. </p><p>But then again, there was also a very high and probable chance that Tassel was simply teasing her. Something like ‘being honest’… it was too simple of a solution to be appropriate.</p><p>Ridiculous.</p><p>---</p><p>A change of pace; a peek through the eyes of Hallownest's Protector.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Devil is in the details.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hornet's siblings were so mysterious to her, at times.</p><p>Both were Vessels, made for the purpose of containing the Infection.</p><p>They were less of bugs made of chitin, and more like void emulating the shape of a bug. They were cold to the touch and bled the black substance, instead of hemolymph. Really, against all logic, they were alive— and she considered them to be her siblings, even if they were different than her in all worldly ways.</p><p>But she had seen other Vessels. She had killed other Vessels. The ones she had encountered prior had all felt the same to her, but maybe it was because she never had a shred of mercy for any them— but that could also be, because she never attempted to be acquainted with them.</p><p>What made Ghost different?</p><p>They had stalked her throughout the whole of Greenpath, for one. It had been a chilling thing. </p><p>Ghost was small, but deceptive. Deceptive not for the fact they were an active liar, or anything of the sort—but for the fact that their stature betrayed the depth of their being. They were strong, willful, implacable, entirely beyond anyone’s control, yet oddly fragile. She had realized it later, as she awaited their arrival to the City of Tears.</p><p>Ghost knew of the world beyond Hallownest. Unlike the Vessels she had encountered prior, they had a different air about them, because they had come from afar. They were also absurdly tenacious—that had been her first impression, and the most important one that persisted through all her encounters with them. She was keenly aware of them, in that respect; but as time went on, she also came to realize that they had learned to express themselves in ways that didn’t require words.</p><p>After all. No one told them to bow their head towards her mother’s plinth, to pay their respects, before departing to let her mourn by her lonesome. More recently, who could have told them that splashing in puddles would be enjoyable?</p><p>Ghost was oddly spontaneous, yet oddly considerate.</p><p>When had she become so fond of them?</p><p>Another who bore that similarity was the Hollow Knight—sans the same level of spontaneity, though she held residual fondness for them.</p><p>From what she remembered of them, during those bygone days in the palace, was that they were indomitable in figure. Always garbed in silver white, they never did anything more than what was instructed of them. They were always still and unmoving, as if everything was just scenery to them—and yet, their almost monstrous strength and skill with a nail was unquestionable. If anything, as a child— what stood out to her, about her very tall sibling, was that they had a supreme level of control.</p><p>Somehow, they seemed just as much the same as before, but still different.</p><p>Their stature now, was the same as it was, though they had gained a noticeable slouch when idle. Much of their body language was stilted, and sometimes she had the impression that they were doll-like, with how they stayed still until interacted with. But it became very obvious, when they were tense. Unlike Ghost, who would shake with rage, her tall sibling would go rigid, and refuse to move. It was still hard for her to tell what they were feeling, when they gave so little of themselves away.</p><p>But recently, there had been a number of changes in their state of being.</p><p>She had seen them laugh for the first time. Silently, but plainly.</p><p>They showed great empathy towards her, and even refused her solitude.</p><p>More and more, they had become receptive to others over time, and began to move first. Never with explanation, but with enough feeling for her to know that they only meant well.</p><p>But when she came to the Queen’s Glade too late, she knew that something must have happened.</p><p>Ghost was fast asleep, and the Hollow Knight urged her to take the sibling and leave them behind. At that moment, she wished she were capable of communicating with them, if only to know and understand what happened. But with their staring to their silent imploring, she obliged.</p><p>She lent them her trust and performed their silent request, and returned to the Stag Station to wait alongside Ghost. Part of her felt that she should have denied their request, but… as she found herself flying on strands of silk with the Ghost of Hallownest in her arm, part of her felt entranced all over again, like the first time she had come to the gardens in her youth. But this time, she had never seen that much color in the Glade.</p><p>… It was a beautiful thing to get lost in.</p><p>Perhaps that was just proof that she still had to mature.</p><p>Nonetheless; what remained true of it all, was that she lost her opportunity to understand the Hollow Knight further because of her immaturity. It was undeniable that the events that had led up to this point left her lonely, somehow. After all, becoming consciously aware of the fact that her siblings could communicate without her was something of a sore spot.</p><p>It remained as one, even to this moment— So much that Hornet thinking back to the conversation she had before meeting up with her siblings again, that day, and felt chagrin for it.</p><p>Because she had felt paralyzed by her inability to understand.</p><p>Tassel, or the still-living Weaver who declared her tall Sibling ‘Weaverfriend’, had laughed at her for it.</p><p>That was the trigger of how their conversation of Deepnest swiftly devolved into a one-sided gossip exchange. Hornet recalled it quite plainly, and wondered if she was the one who taught the Hollow Knight how to laugh at others’ expense.</p><p>All in jest, but still.</p><p>Of all things to learn.</p><p>She shook her head at the memory as it came to her. In truth, she knew the Weaver to be right about her problems.</p><p>But then again, there was also a very high and probable chance that Tassel was simply teasing her for it. Something like ‘being honest’… it was too simple of a solution to be appropriate.</p><p>Ridiculous.</p><p>… And yet, she still couldn’t tell what went on in the Hollow Knight’s mind. At least, not readily, and it made her anxious.</p><p>Hornet had always thought herself perceptive, and in her childhood, had correctly assumed that the Hollow Knight, was not at all, hollow, like everyone said. But she wasn’t a child anymore, and she knew better to force impressions of her own emotions on others. In spite of that, she also found herself left out, and always trailing a step behind her siblings in some respect. That she could never seem to be on the same wavelength. As with all matters regarding them, perhaps it came down to the fact she didn’t share the crucial emptiness that was the whole of their being, and more.</p><p>She would be lying, if she didn’t feel a tinge of envy for it.</p><p>Not that she would want to be born of void, but more for the fact she would have liked to be able to speak with her siblings freely.</p><p>This would work out one way, or another. There couldn’t be a fault with teaching at least the Ghost of Hallownest how to properly write. She knew that they were at least capable of reading—and she already knew that the Hollow Knight could do both.</p><p>Not that she had ever seen the latter write anything on their own accord.</p><p>And judging by today’s events, it seemed it wouldn’t happen today, either.</p><p>They were simply observing as the Ghost of Hallownest struggled to write.</p><p>Swinging a nail might have been Ghost’s forte, but letters were not. Apparently, judging by the marks on Ghost’s map, they had drawn those in with their quill as they meticulously kept with their updates—and if nothing else, the drawings were a charming, childish show of their own character.</p><p>Comparatively, their scrawl was difficult to discern as some characters blended too close to others. They had improved to some extent with guidance and lessons, but were incorrigible— maybe Ghost just didn’t like it.</p><p>Maybe she had been like this, when she was younger, too.</p><p>But in consideration of that, today’s lesson had petered off into an impromptu game of some kind. Where Grimmchild (who she swore was much bigger than the last time she’d saw them, considering that they didn’t take as much space before) would point to a place on the map, and the Ghost would draw something related to it.</p><p>The floor was littered with scraps of parchment that the Ghost had drawn on. Pictures of bugs that Hornet might have seen in passing were present, but she didn’t know most of them. If anything, the bleakness of the number of bugs that remained... it wasn’t lost on her.</p><p>All the while, the Hollow Knight looked on.</p><p>They weren’t holding onto their nail, nor were they toying with the ribbon that Tassel had given them. They were watching Ghost (or Grimmchild?) passively with a slouch—but it could have been anything else that they were looking at. After a time, they turned their head slowly towards Hornet’s direction. Having been caught, she got up, and moved to sit beside them.</p><p>“Will you not write, too?” Hornet finally asked.</p><p>Her large sibling shook their head plainly.</p><p>It was a clear refusal of the idea.</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>It was hard for her to mask her disappointment.</p><p>As if sensing this, the Hollow Knight straightened their posture, consciously, and lifted their remaining hand to pat her head. They had started this habit of showing small gestures of physical affection—and while it was embarrassing to some degree, Hornet allowed it, if only because it felt like she was seeing more of them, beyond her assumptions.</p><p>But earnestly, she wanted to know the Hollow Knight on a level she felt similarly acquainted with Ghost. Ghost was incomprehensible at times, but also very open with what they felt. Like now, how they seemed to be noisily arguing with Grimmchild in regards to the locale of Fog Canyon. For what reason? She could only guess. Those two seemed to understand each other well enough.</p><p>Everything the Hollow Knight did seem muted in comparison—but she shook her head mentally. It wasn’t a good thing to compare her siblings to one another. But what could she talk about? To talk at them only reminded her of what the Pale King did so often. The solution would to be plainly considerate, wouldn't it?</p><p>And yet, unfortunately for her, consideration was not one of her strong suits.</p><p>“It surprises me just to what extent our Sibling traversed through Hallownest. I knew them to be of a determined like, but they were nothing but thorough.” She commented, and attempted, as she noted the fact they had somehow drawn out a map of the Abyss itself.</p><p>The Hollow Knight nodded slightly in response. Reassured, she continued idly.</p><p>“… All that, and they still somehow never learnt to write.”</p><p>Somehow, that had to be the thing that mustered another reaction from the Hollow Knight. Their shoulders sagged slightly, as Hornet recognized the telltale of their silent, muted laughter. Of all the things they might have received from Tassel, that might have been the best of it.</p><p>Just seeing them react like that was kind of magic, in itself. How many times would they have laughed at her childish antics, if they could? If she were younger, she would have openly expressed that she liked it. Instead, she simply hummed in agreement.</p><p>“Particularly. Would there be anywhere in Hallownest you wish to see, Knight?” She asked, and just as soon, the Hollow Knight went still. She internally chided herself for asking, but went along further. “… We last went to the City of Tears, but where else would you go, if you could? There would be Greenpath, or even Dirtmouth.”</p><p>They lowered their head, as they seemed lost in thought.</p><p>Seeing this, Hornet tried further.</p><p>“We could even see the flowers in the Queen’s Gardens again, if you wanted.”</p><p>To that, they <em>immediately</em> shook their head.</p><p>There was a mote of hesitance, as she once again got the same impression from before— as their gaze lowered again, guilt, and melancholy hung from their shoulders. If they had their nail with them, they might have tightened their grip on it. Whatever had happened in their visitation with the White Lady, it must have been something.</p><p>After all. She had attempted to visit the Lady on her own accord to find out what had happened, exactly— but her roots had completely blocked passage. Whatever the former Queen was doing, it was clear she wanted to be left by herself.</p><p>“Is it too soon to return?” Hornet asked.</p><p>To that, her large sibling nodded.</p><p>“Then let’s not do that.” She said, conceding.</p><p>The Hollow Knight seemed slightly surprised, but relaxed as they stared at her. In turn, she glanced to them, before looking, and watching Ghost as they held Grimmchild away from them, at arm’s length. They were arguing for some reason. The strange bug continued to screech, and yowl in protest, but the distraction wasn’t enough to dissuade her from speaking further. Rather, watching them might have caused her mind to slip, in that moment.</p><p>“In truth, much of this seems surreal to me. I said as much before, but it remains true.” She murmured—and caught herself right after. The Hollow Knight was looking at her still, seemingly waiting for her to continue.</p><p>Hornet sighed.</p><p>“… How should I put this?” She asked, trying to keep her volume down as to not catch Ghost’s attention. “… I know that Ghost’s intent was to lift Hallownest’s stasis. But now that it isn’t a state of being any longer, while the days pass on without falter, it seems that time is going too fast for me now. Especially now that Ghost has grown slightly— and even their... strange, noisy companion too. Conversely, I’ve not changed yet, and find myself lagging for it.”</p><p>The sentiment felt like a silly one, to her. But the Hollow Knight stared at her, before raising their hand to compare her height to what it was now, before… aligning it perpendicularly against the ground. They were comparing her current size, to the size she was when she was still a hatchling.</p><p>Ruefully, she shook her head. She elected to ignore the gesture, and responded dryly. “I wouldn't mean it that way. … Suppose, though, that is the entire point of stasis. To keep something from changing.”</p><p>The Hollow Knight nodded to her.</p><p>As she cast a glance at them, they looked back at her.</p><p>“… You might find it strange, coming from me. Yet, I find it difficult to keep up with you and Ghost at times, though I might be the fastest of us three.” She admitted quietly. “I know asking you both to write is somewhat selfish of me. But even I find myself struggling to understand at times, Knight. … I worry that I might do something I can’t take back, because I can’t know what you’re thinking.”</p><p>They stared at her.</p><p>She stared back.</p><p>“Would you dislike me, Knight?” She asked curtly, outright. She felt ridiculous for it, as they slowly blinked at her. “For the things I’ve done. … Would you feel I’m forcing you to do things? Is it cause for you to keep your distance?”</p><p>They gazed at her, before slowly shaking their head.</p><p>Somehow, she didn’t know why she felt compelled to ask that, but their answer didn’t quell the feeling in her chest. Even after all this time, though she’d not been a child for so long, and didn’t think of herself as one, she was still thoughtless and demanding of others.</p><p>It shamed her.</p><p>“Then…" She started. “What am I doing wrong?”</p><p>As she asked this, a particularly loud squawk of Grimmchild caused her to lift her head, and look away from them. Getting up almost a bit too quickly at the sight of smoke and wisps of flame, Hornet made quick work of both Ghost and their noisy friend— through a stern scolding.</p><p>Ghost understood and complied, but Grimmchild was unrepentant, and spat a spark at her. Regardless of whether they were a child or not, she would get it through their head that it wasn’t a good idea for them to pick fights that they could not win.</p><p>At the very least, not against her.</p><p>As such, Grimmchild was now being strung upside down in a cocoon, for their trouble— and with this development, Ghost did as they wanted. They had been arguing over the Ancient Basin, Hornet realized— and she, was thoroughly distracted.</p><p>Now allowed to do as they pleased, Ghost took two scraps of paper, and in short order, drew another vessel— not one she knew of, in any regard. The drawing depicted a mask with childish eyes, and swooping asymmetrical horns. They stared thoughtfully and set it far away in some corner of the world, before scribbling away with their quill again.</p><p>The second picture gave her pause.</p><p>Ghost had drawn a clumsy, simple version of the King’s Brand on that scrap of parchment, and floated it over to the Palace Grounds.</p><p>“The Pale King.” Hornet recognized.</p><p>They nodded.</p><p>“Astute of you. He used to live there in the White Palace. Knight and I resided there for a time, as well.” She supplied, before tipping her head down slightly. Those memories were particularly bitter, though not even she could deny the notion of sweetness. For her tall sibling, however, had they hated it there? She shook her head derisively. “… Though none of it is there anymore.”</p><p>But surely Ghost knew that already, given they drew in the entry gate of the palace— the only thing that was left of it.</p><p>Still, the Ghost of Hallownest adamantly shook their head at her words.</p><p>Very emphatically, they pointed to the Ancient Basin—the Palace Grounds. They placed the parchment over that spot, and pat it.</p><p>“I know where it once was.” She nodded. “But what of it?”</p><p>As she asked the question, Ghost paused. With some consideration, they took the scrap, and moved it off of their map. They left it there, and scribbled very carefully.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>[dream]</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They pointed to the King’s brand again.</p><p>“The White Palace is… in a dream?” She asked, uncomprehendingly. She felt doubt, or even rueful spite as she continued. “Or— you would mean the Pale King, Ghost?”</p><p>But to her surprise, Ghost nodded—and the Hollow Knight froze.</p><p>Truly, the details of what made her siblings different were hidden between the lines of their actions. Neither of them could speak, but it didn’t stop either from expressing themselves as they desired.</p><p>The moment Ghost had revealed that tidbit of information, the Hollow Knight went still. They looked as if they would leave without notice, as their body language and demeanor slipped into what she was more painfully familiar with—them being devoid of tells. Then lacking any sort of reaction, at all.</p><p>As if it were a kneejerk reaction of her own, she grabbed their arm. Maybe it was to keep them from sprinting off. Maybe it was to not be left in the dark about what her siblings were thinking of.</p><p>She wanted to understand.</p><p>“Knight?” Hornet called.</p><p>They didn’t respond to her.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>They didn’t look back at her.</p><p>The stuff of dreams and the gods that inhabited those plains of existence were foreign to her, and she felt painfully aware of it now. Ghost had a means to enter dreams; she couldn’t have forgotten because that’s how they had put her mother to rest— that’s how she knew they could kill the source of the plague that was held within the Hollow Knight. But it slipped her mind.</p><p>Hornet had said something thoughtlessly, as she feared.</p><p>She remembered in her youth, that the Pale King had tried to tell her something in regards to the state of the Dreamers, and how they would be protected from all harm because they were in the Dream Realm. He had told her that as a means to comfort her, perhaps, but back then, it only came as a slap to her face.</p><p>She had been furious with the Pale King for removing her mother from reality. She said that she would never forgive him for it, and while to some degree that was still true, in her age, she had come to accept what had come to pass. After all, in a stasis where nothing but the dead move, she had endless time to think. To do searching herself.</p><p>How hard it had been, to grow despondent in her journey, and begin looking for answers.</p><p>Why was it that her Siblings always seemed to know more than her?</p><p>The proper means of ending the infection, what the two would share with each other and not her—</p><p>And now, what the Ghost was saying— the Pale King was still there?</p><p>In a dream himself?</p><p>He too, had abandoned Hallownest— and herself, <em>for a dream?</em></p><p>Ghost themselves, seemed to realize that something was wrong, or that they had made a misstep somewhere. They hung their head low, as they too, went to join Hornet in holding back their still Sibling. They actively tugged their cloak, to get them to react, to no avail, before looking at her.</p><p>Was the Hollow Knight angry?</p><p>Or—</p><p>Was she the one who was angry?</p><p>Hornet stopped.</p><p>Her grip loosened at the realization. She sank back gingerly, and rested her arms under her cape. She slowly inched away, and gave them space. Numbing guilt gnawed at her, again.</p><p>She lowered her head.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>Slowly, they turned to look at her and Ghost.</p><p>“Would you want to go there?” She asked, without looking back at them. She didn't need to look to know that the answer was yes. “… If you would, it may be best that I not go.”</p><p>Removing herself from this felt like the best thing to do.</p><p>Convinced of it, she stood up.</p><p>“I was already abandoned once by him with no explanation. I’ve made my peace with it.” Hornet said, but it felt more like a lie, the more she thought about it. But she could concede to it. She could do it if she had the will. Thinking that, she dropped into her old ways, and raised her head uncaringly. “Still. Would you want to return there, to our old home?”</p><p>They nodded.</p><p>As she expected.</p><p>Quickly, Hornet grabbed her needle. Ghost floundered slightly, as they raised their paws half way almost as if to stop her, but she ignored them.</p><p>“Then do so.” She stated, as she made it halfway across the room with her pace. “I’ll go elsewhere in the meantime and leave you to mourn. … You have that right for our father.”</p><p>It would have been perfect to leave it at that. It would have. But just as suddenly, the Hollow Knight finally moved. Before she could make it to the door, they blocked off the entrance entirely— standing in her way.</p><p>As she finally looked at them properly, her frustration betrayed her.</p><p>“Move.” Hornet snapped.</p><p>They shook their head. She bristled, as she tightened her grip on her needle.</p><p>“Move!”</p><p>They stared at her.</p><p>“Knight, what do you want from me? I don’t understand!” She said, raising her voice. She winced at her own tenseness, and anger towards this situation. Why was she angry? “I don’t—“</p><p>Without letting her finish, this time, the Hollow Knight knelt down to her, and hugged her. Why? To stop her from leaving by using their entire body to do so?</p><p>She froze, and mentally wanted to scream.</p><p>Again.</p><p>They were comforting her again. The most wounded bug on the face of Hallownest, who was still yet recovering in more ways than one, was comforting her. This should have been the other way around. </p><p>They shook their head, their horns bumping against hers, as tears threatened to well from her eyes.</p><p>“Why are you doing this?” She asked quietly, stubbornly holding onto her old ways. “Just leave already. I would know you would want to go.”</p><p>They neither shook their head, or nodded.</p><p>Instead, they scooped her up as if she weighed nothing, and sat down with her in tow. With her still in their arm, they looked to Ghost, who dashed forward to join. Though bigger, they were still diminutive in size, and their arms could not wrap around her. All in contrast to the one who could do that, and more.</p><p>They were both trying to comfort her.</p><p>“Why won’t you just leave me be?” She asked. She knew it was foolish to ask, knowing they could not give her an answer.</p><p>But yet, they had.</p><p>The Hollow Knight did not hold her tightly, and was allowing her the space to leave, if she really wanted to go. The door was right there, after all. She could get up and leave. They were giving her that choice.</p><p>Ghost on the other hand, was staring up at her, as if asking her not to.</p><p>And the third, who did not really belong in this picture, but was here all the same— Grimmchild mewled, and stared at her while hanging upside down. Requesting to be freed from their punishment.</p><p>Hornet put a hand over her eyes, and sighed.</p><p>“Then what would you have me do? I don’t know anymore.” She shook her head, as she stayed put in her sibling’s lap, while the smaller pressed against her. “I don’t know.”</p><p>Directly, the Hollow Knight stopped hugging her and Ghost both— putting their only hand on her needle, but not taking it away from her, explicitly.</p><p>They were silently asking Hornet to let go of it.</p><p>She would be lying to herself, if said it were that simple. To just let go of her weapon. Her most precious possession. That needle was given to her by her mother. That needle was her main method of protection from husks and offense to anything that approached her. She had claimed more lives than she cared to remember with it. It was her only real reminder of the past, her companion through everything she’d endured for the age now bygone, and the Hollow Knight was asking her to let go of it?</p><p>They waited for her answer, patiently, as the silence spoke volumes.</p><p>Hornet lowered her head.</p><p>With her hand trembling, she let go of her needle.</p><p>Her tall sibling didn’t let it fall, or clatter away. With careful consideration, they placed it in a place where she could see it. Placated, with both siblings in their lap, they looked at her again. They were awaiting some kind of response from her, she realized.</p><p>“For someone who can’t speak, you are terribly persuasive.” She said chidingly, concisely, but the scolding tone was directed towards herself. The Hollow Knight looked on, perhaps with some echo of understanding.</p><p>She felt exposed, and weak like this. And she wasn’t missing limbs, or suffering dull pains like they were- really, she had no excuse.</p><p>And yet she was being coddled like a hatchling, again.</p><p>“This really should be the other way around.” </p><p>The Hollow Knight shrugged slightly at her. She scoffed in response, as Ghost canted their head at the notion, puzzled.</p><p>"I mean that I should be the one taking care of you both, Ghost. Not the other way around."</p><p>Ghost stared, and got up. After releasing Grimmchild from their punishment, they grasped their quill and scribbled something on another scrap of paper. Just as quickly, they scurried back to the Hollow Knight's established sibling pile, and held the scrap to Hornet.</p><p>It was a simple, childish thing. It was a hastily drawn picture of her as they saw her; and under it, they had written a single word in their sloppy handwriting.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>[sister]</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em>Sister,</em> not caretaker, they spoke.</p><p>In the most factual and plain way, Ghost continued to hold it out to her in their paws, radiating a sense of contentment as they did. </p><p>Even the Hollow Knight nodded with approval.</p><p>Both watched as she took the paper into her hands. She stared at it numbly, as the discourse that started all of this gnawed at her- That Ghost had drawn and revealed to them that the Pale King was still somewhere to be found. </p><p>And yet, as she gazed at this, some part of her felt that this could be one of the most meaningful things she could have been given. And still, her old ways taunted her. That her feelings, and that this sentiment could wait to be addressed until another time. Just long enough to address this.</p><p>She continued to hold the parchment in her hands.</p><p>“Knight. Ghost. What should happen now? Knowing that the Pale King might be found.” She mumbled. “… Should you be wasting your time tending to me?”</p><p>They stared at her, but didn’t move. The Ghost of Hallownest stayed stationary, too. Their voids of their eyes spoke to her silently, as the larger of the two lifted their hand, and pat her head again. Ghost gently butted their head against her side, prompting her to scowl, and sigh in defeat.</p><p>“… I think I understand.” She breathed. “I’m sorry for burdening you.”</p><p>The Hollow Knight shook their head again. To that, Hornet finally 'laughed'.</p><p>Unlike their shared Weaverfriend, Hornet scoffed disbelievingly, as tears stung her eyes. It was not at all pleasant. They were denying the notion that she was a burden. They were giving her their attention, as she wanted. How was it that she could feel this lonely? Maybe it was because before, she never had time to dwell on such feelings. She hadn't known company for a very long while.</p><p>She had to do what she could to survive, and do what she was asked by her father— to wait, and protect Hallownest. It was the only instruction he left to her, before he sent her to be cared for and trained by Vespa-- before the Pale King vanished completely.</p><p>Completely, and utterly, leaving her alone in the world.</p><p>While she knew that the notion wasn't entirely true, she realized it then, that she wanted to see the Pale King again, too. If only to give him a piece of her mind. To maybe be angry, for everything that he had done, and for the fact that he had abandoned them all. Her tone might have given off these sentiments completely without her realizing it- and yet, her siblings were still being patient with her.</p><p>They both were fretting over her. They were refusing to leave her be, for a reason twofold.</p><p>Hornet understood it, then.</p><p>It was plain and simple: they would all go later. All of them, together— But not until she was okay.</p><p>“… This really should be the other way around.” She repeated, as she looked down at the drawing Ghost made of her. Whatever retorts or silent chiding she would be subjected to, she'd accept it later. She didn't want to meet the Hollow Knight's all-consuming gaze at present. They were going to suffocate her with their all too forgiving nature at this rate.</p><p>Forgiveness was such a foreign thing, having grown up in a place that was nothing but merciless. There was much she’d done that she took no pride in, but had survived all the same. But maybe, if her siblings could forgive her, she could learn to forgive herself, too.</p><p>…</p><p>Finally, Hornet raised her head.</p><p>“… Ghost.” She started.</p><p>The smaller of the two perked up, and looked at her. Grimmchild was clinging to their back now, peeking to get a glimpse of the drawing that they had made for her.</p><p>“May I keep this?”</p><p>Her small sibling practically preened in response.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I did it. I hit my quota of 50k words. Of course, this isn't the end; everyone still has a way to go. I actually omitted the conversation that Hornet had with Tassel, because I felt it would get away from the overall intent. I'll post it somewhere though. Don't worry.</p><p>But thank you all for reading. I hope you'll continue to be here until we finally make it, and see where their journey takes them.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All mine towers crumble down.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything was so still.</p><p>There really was nothing of it left.</p><p>They stared at the Palace Entrance, forlorn. The building was completely gone, and the palace grounds were devoid of light. The empty husks of retainers lingered close, as if they weren’t able to process the disappearance of the king and his entire castle. Some part of them had already registered it once they visited the City of Tears—which was more of a crypt for the dead than a city, where everything and all was washed away—but they understood it now. Everything was in ruins.</p><p>While they stared at the front of the Castle Gate, Hornet stood nearby. Past the corpse of the Kingsmold, they walked towards the front, and stood at the empty doors, leading to nowhere.</p><p>Hornet was right.</p><p>Hallownest really was nothing like it used to be.</p><p>As such, with the fact so plainly in front of them, now, maybe the shock of it all finally dawned on them, too. The overgrowth of the Queen’s Garden, the rusted platforms and derelict gazebos were enough to keep it in mind. The ambience of rain, in a silent city with few living souls left to it.</p><p>The Black Egg had been devoid of sound for the most part. The echo and rattling of chains when they had fits of pain was the telltale of their trauma, but the other thing had been her sweet, simpering voice.</p><p>Why was it only now, that they were in front of the absolute proof of it, that they remembered—</p><p>She said that this would happen.</p><p>Some part of them had been too distracted to remember it. Maybe they had been coping, by putting forward all their care and consideration towards their siblings. The Ghost’s fear of abandonment and Hornet’s near decline into solitude had them put off this trip until both were quelled—but now that they were here? They felt as if they were entirely not ready for the gravity of this revelation. It had been a long time yet, since they last had a nightmare.</p><p>But wasn’t this one, right now?</p><p>They stood still, as they looked on in muted horror.</p><p>How she had laughed, mocked, and raged in the Dream Realm, in their endless dance of carnage. How through the eyes of others, she was ascertaining the fall of the Kingdom that took everything that was rightfully hers.</p><p>They had ignored it for so long, as they fought in the Dream Realm. How long had they fought for? They couldn’t know, but it was a while since they had lost, and fallen victim to the infection. How had she done it? What had she said that broke them? All they could immediately remember now, was how she had changed their body to suit her needs— manifesting physically through orange pustules and sickening sweetness. How they had been aware of it all, the entire time.</p><p>They lowered their head; their shoulders slouching forward, as put their hand to their throat—silently retching at the thought. She was gone. She was gone, but the aftermath of the plague remained. The stump of their right arm ached, as they found themselves accosted with dizziness. They felt as if they were drowning from the rising bile in their throat, as their hand dropped to clench their chest.</p><p>“Knight?”</p><p>Hornet’s voice lulled them away.</p><p>Ghost had walked to their other side, and tugged their cloak.</p><p>Both of their siblings were looking at them with concern.</p><p>“I said as much, did I not? … It’s a lot to take in, and I don’t fault you for it.” Hornet continued, as they lowered their hand away from their chest. They silently looked to her briefly, and wondered if she had the same reaction the first time she had tried to return.</p><p>But yes.</p><p>It was a lot to take in.</p><p>As their hand lowered, Ghost reached up and grasped a digit with their small paw. It anchored them to the reality in the here and now, as they stared at the Palace Archway again.</p><p>
  <strong>Sibling, are you well?</strong>
</p><p>They didn’t answer this time.</p><p>They didn’t know what to feel, rather. The place they had spent most of their life in, was gone. The Weaver had said that home was a place where you would return to, after everything and all ills. For the Hollow Knight, after returning to the White Lady for that brief moment, wanting to return here to see the Pale King again felt like the most logical step. In truth, however, there was no real logic to at all.</p><p>They ached.</p><p>Though still broken, and everything that they weren’t supposed to be, they still wanted to see their father again.</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest squeezed their finger tighter.</p><p>They didn’t know if they were thinking aloud again. The Ghost didn’t comment, but they continued to show them that single, simple comfort of grounding them in reality. In the present.</p><p>And yet, all of this still felt very much like a dream.</p><p>What would happen if they entered the Dream where the White Palace was? Where the Pale King was?</p><p>Would they find themselves lost in it?</p><p>… Would they ever want to wake?</p><p>
  <strong>Sibling?</strong>
</p><p>It was much easier to speak of hope to their sibling, when they had no idea how to properly grasp it for themselves. What a sweet temptation it was, to just yield to everything and all. But they supposed that that was always a fault of theirs. For never moving on their own.</p><p>Why was it now, that they felt paralyzed?</p><p>“Ghost. Where would the Palace be in all this?” Hornet finally spoke up, as she tore her gaze away from the ruin.</p><p>In response, the Ghost of Hallownest let go of their hand to attend to their sister. They moved then, to watch the Ghost amble to the corpse of the Kingsmould. Hornet watched attentively, though in her own way, she looked ready to bolt at any moment.</p><p>Now that they were properly looking at it, it didn’t resemble any Kingsmould that they had seen before. They remembered the day when the Pale King introduced them, and remembered the Mask Maker’s words.</p><p>The Pale King sought to subjugate the Void with these things by giving them shape, and not a real focus. How odd of a thing it was, but they remembered the press in the Workshop. How void tinged the place, and how the King would spend a great deal of time with his experiments and research.</p><p>They remembered that the Kingsmoulds were proper automatons, and weren’t capable of doing anything outside of being ordered, much like them. They were even of void, too—but much more fragile, by comparison. They remembered that after one particularly rigorous training session, they had struck the Kingsmould they were fighting against so hard that the armor encasing it shattered. They saw the void construct for a split second, before melted into nothing before their eyes.</p><p>It had shocked them.</p><p>At one point, they were certain that the Pale King had created the Kingsmoulds to replace them.</p><p>Not that that ever came to pass.</p><p>Whether that was a blessing or a curse, they wouldn’t think about it further.</p><p>The Kingsmould corpse in front of them was an oddity. It didn’t have a face—rather, the void that it was made out of had solidified and hardened into a strange, webbing shape. It seemed planted into the ground with… Void Tendrils?</p><p>They paused, as they stared at the sight—their memories gasping under the rubble.</p><p>That wasn’t normal.</p><p>Their attention drifted back to the Ghost of Hallownest, as they brought out something that looked like a nail’s handle. It glowed faintly with dream essence, and they realized that that was the implement that they used to enter Her Domain during that conclusive moment.</p><p>… Although.</p><p>
  <em>Ghost.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Yes?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Only one can enter the Dream Realm through the use of that. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>I know.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>But now that we’re here, I don’t know exactly what I should do.</strong>
</p><p>At least they were honest.</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest glanced back at the fallen Kingsmould.</p><p>
  <strong>… We technically would have another way.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>But that involves destroying our masks.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>I did not say we should attempt it.</strong>
</p><p>Hornet would kill them for doing that, thought they would be almost as good as dead anyway without a mask—except the Ghost of Hallownest, at any rate. Beneath that shell, they were still the Lord of Shades.</p><p>If they broke their mask a second time, they didn’t know if they would have the right to return amongst the living.</p><p>
  <strong>If we slept, I might be able to pull you through the Void Heart. </strong>
</p><p>But Hornet would not have that luxury, they conveyed wordlessly.</p><p>
  <strong>But what if <em>we</em> slept?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>It would be much more difficult for you and me both, but Hornet could use the Dream Nail proper.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Could you even navigate through a dream without the Dream Nail?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Through the Void, I might.</strong>
</p><p>It was then, the thought of the God of Gods crossed the Hollow Knight’s mind again. With the Ancient Basin being so close to the Abyss, would it be all that far-fetched to think that the Ghost would be able to achieve that feat? They had been able to pull it all the way to the Black Egg Temple. But to do it for something like this?</p><p>The Ghost of Hallownest glanced down, deep in thought—and in turn, the Hollow Knight too, began to think. All of this seemed like an impossibility. If anything, taking turns using the Dream Nail to enter the dream seemed to be the only solution.</p><p>After all, asking them to sleep in a derelict ruin would leave much to be desired. Besides that, they were certain that if they slept here, they would only have nightmares.</p><p>
  <em>… Nightmares.</em>
</p><p>The Hollow Knight lifted their head in realization.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The beginning of the end.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Interlude III</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>From the viewpoint of a certain Ghost-</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was all but unsaid that this was a terrible idea, and if Hornet knew what they were doing to achieve this, she was going to be very mad.</p><p>And yet, it wasn’t even entirely their idea!</p><p>It was their large Sibling’s.</p><p>In truth, they hadn’t wanted to come back here. The White Palace was full of unsavory things—who could have ever lived there? Why would they ever want to go back? All to see the Pale King?</p><p>Once more, they found themselves thinking of the White Lady, and lowered their head.</p><p>… They really hoped that the Pale King was still there— but they also hoped that they wouldn’t have to spend hours navigating through everything again.</p><p>They shouldn’t have said anything at all. Grimmchild was right.</p><p>But that made them think— With the considerations of the palace architecture in mind, it all of a sudden made incredible sense to the Ghost of Hallownest on how their large sibling could teleport, and how Hornet was able to zip across great expanses in such a short amount of time.</p><p>Speaking of that, they still hadn’t taught them how to do that!</p><p>When asked to explain the method, their Sibling shrugged at them.</p><p>The Void was answering them, they said.</p><p>But that hadn’t answered anything! The void could answer them too, but it never let them do anything like that. Was it really Void that was letting their Sibling do that?</p><p>It was different from when they dashed in their Shade Cloak. They couldn’t even make soul constructs like that, though they had an abundance of void magic at their disposal. Maybe their sibling was just that much different from them? They seemed to favor soul much more, though they constantly seemed drained for using it.</p><p>That’s why they had to try harder, to make up the difference.</p><p>They thought, that given the opportunity, that their tall Sibling would never fight again.</p><p>And yet, multiple times already, they had picked up their nail. They definitely were strong, even when weakened—even though they were missing an arm, and though they fatigued quickly. When they brought up the notion of nightmares, they were worried, up until they properly explained themselves.</p><p>Could they enter the Kingsmould’s Dream, through a Nightmare?</p><p>The answer, well… was, in theory?</p><p>The proper answer hadn’t dawned on them, until they realized that their sibling was referring to Grimmchild. The Vessel of the Nightmare Heart would be able to at least help them with the transition; even though they were of Void, to rely on it so deeply also lent the chance that they would never be able to return. Especially with the Void Sea so close to the Ancient Basin—they didn’t know if they would be so lucky to wash up on shore again, effectively.</p><p>What their sibling was suggesting, was that Grimmchild lead them into the Hollow Knight’s Nightmare to find them without the Void Heart— thus taking them as close as possible to the Dream they were trying to break into. From there, they would be able to pull them into the White Palace through the traces of Void already present within the Host. The Void was united under Ghost’s will; in theory, if Ghost asked, they could seep into the Dream through a controlled, precise movement.</p><p>It was a sound idea.</p><p>But hearing their sibling offer their Nightmare as fuel to their friend, felt like very wrong, for some reason. First of all, how could they have known Grimmchild’s nature? They had a feeling that their Sibling didn’t like them very much after their first encounter, but…</p><p>Well, there was no need to demand for answers right now.</p><p>All they had to do was guide their siblings through the White Palace. To where the Pale King was.</p><p>But first, they had to find their tall sibling.</p><p>Falling asleep in their sibling’s lap was an easy enough task, because it was easy to get comfortable. As they were lulled to the clutches of sleep, they felt themselves floating in the ebb and flow of nothingness. They didn’t have dreams, or nightmares very often. Perhaps that was a blessing.</p><p>But as they floated around in nothing, they started reaching out, and searching for their sibling.</p><p>Part of them felt nostalgic as they wanted through the expanse, as they remembered the moth that saved them from being trapped in the Dream Realm, by the Dreamers. That was how they had gained the Dream Nail, at Seer’s request.</p><p>Part of them stopped, at the thought.</p><p>Seer had asked to be forgotten.</p><p>For a long while, they thought it strange, and didn’t know whether to honor that request or not. Could they really bring themselves to forget the figure that had guided them through the dream the first time?</p><p>As Ghost thought this, a figure of a red shroud appeared, floating above them. They had known them for a long while, and had accompanied them through the stages of their growth. Recently, they had come to notice that they had gotten bigger, but this time, it was unmistakable.</p><p>A swooping crescent greeted them, as the small Grimm landed before them, and looked on at Ghost— standing at a height reminiscent of theirs, before they had gained their new mask. They had no visible arms yet, but their tail was still prominent. Red essence fluttered about them, as they stared on with their crimson eyes, indicative of the Nightmare Heart.</p><p>Within moments, their wings were wrapped seamlessly around them—and they bowed.</p><p>In turn, the Ghost of Hallownest bowed their head back.</p><p>As the two raised their heads to look at one another, the corners of Grimmchild’s mouth upturned, their eyes crinkling with a smile—and the greatest surprise came then, as they opened their mouth to speak, in a youthful, disarming trill.</p><p>“Well met, my friend. Well met.”</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They wandered through the dark for a time; but it was no means silent.</p><p>Flame lit the path, as Grimmchild guided them through the expanse. Nightmares were different from regular dreams, they realized. Instead of the faded pink and warm light that Dream Essence suffused its surroundings with, Nightmare Essence was red, scorching, and smoldering. It was dark, and moody.</p><p>Grimmchild’s footsteps left sparks of red in their wake, which Ghost took to following exactly.</p><p>“Your sibling’s really bold, my friend. To get you to ask for my aid like that. How could I refuse?” They chirped, as they led the way—not at all dissimilar to what their travels together were like before, really. They had spoken the entire time, as if being granted this form and being given the ability to speak proper allowed them to rattle on and on. But as they drifted to this conversation topic, it garnered their attention in a different way. “I wonder what kind of nightmare they would be having now? Last time, it was an inferno. It burned so brightly, you could see it in the waking world!”</p><p>That knowledge didn’t sit well with them, but they remained silent, as always.  </p><p>Rather, now that they were paying attention properly, it was funny how Grimmchild was so reminiscent of Grimm. But then again, wasn’t that expected, because Grimm was their father?</p><p>They pondered the thought.</p><p>Which parent did they take after?</p><p>“By the way, Ghost. Are you prepared?” Grimmchild said suddenly, as they stopped walking, and turned around to look at them from the side.</p><p>They canted their head at that. What did they mean?</p><p>“You’ve done your fair share of entering the dreams of fallen warriors, my friend.” They hummed, as they faced forward again. “A Nightmare’s not really an exception. Would you be prepared to fight your Sibling, should things take a turn for the worse?”</p><p>They gave Grimmchild a look, then.</p><p>Grimmchild gave them a coy look in exchange, as they continued walking forward.</p><p>“Fair enough. I’m asking because we’ve almost arrived.” They said, tottering forward in a childish amble. “I feel like it would be a spectacle most amazing— wouldn’t you think so?”</p><p>They didn’t know whether to be concerned or impressed that their friend would call their Sibling’s nightmare ‘amazing’ in any capacity.</p><p>In fact, wouldn’t that be a turn for the worse, if they had to fight?</p><p>They shook their head, willfully.</p><p>“You wouldn’t hesitate if it meant life or death.” Grimmchild said pointedly.</p><p>But this was different.</p><p>They stared at Grimmchild.</p><p>“Is it? You’re trying to enter another Vessel’s dream. There are <em>Gods</em> in those, Ghost. How many times does that make this?”</p><p>Twice.</p><p>Or was it three times now?</p><p>But still.</p><p>They shook their head again.</p><p>In those cases, only nothing could stand in their way.</p><p>“So there’s something you’re afraid of after all. Not of Gods, but for others?” Their friend laughed at them, and in turn, Ghost lowered their head slightly. “There’s no shame in it. After all, I’m kind of shaking myself. I’ve never done this before— Being a guide, I mean. Maybe this is how father felt?”</p><p>There was no way of telling now, now that Grimm was no more.</p><p>They had only been in this place once, but it was distinctive enough to discern immediately. Lines of soul magic jumped out at them as they traversed deeper into the Black Egg, and they found themselves at the entrance—tense and filled with trepidation, much like the first time they had arrived here. They didn’t want to see their sibling hanging, again.</p><p>Would it be more of their own nightmare, or their sibling’s at this point?</p><p>They steeled themselves to draw their nail again, as they pressed forward, ahead of Grimmchild.</p><p>In affairs like these, they were the one to be at the front.</p><p>But as they entered the main chamber, it was devoid of sound, save for their own footsteps.</p><p>Their sibling was sat in the center of the room, with their nail resting against their shoulder. Particles of void floated around them. Somehow, they looked more relaxed compared to when they willingly took to sleep. Ghost didn’t need to hold their breath, but they did.</p><p>At their approach, the Sibling raised their head, and looked at them.</p><p>Ghost blinked in response, dumbfounded.</p><p>Their sibling was already aware of them?</p><p>Had they been waiting?</p><p>
  <em>You’re here.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Yes.</strong>
</p><p>With that acknowledgement, Ghost’s apprehension lessened, somewhat. Their sibling seemed entirely aware that they were having a nightmare, and was acknowledging them coherently. They felt some relief as they strode to their sibling, and butt their mask against their arm. Their sibling canted their head, and raised their hand to pat their head, just briefly.</p><p>Grimmchild at that point skipped ahead, cloak fluttering behind them as they went to look at their sibling, squinting.</p><p>“That’s it? No grand finale after all the build up? No sibling dance?” Grimmchild said, with an odd, air of petulance as they flared out their wings, scandalized.</p><p>Both Ghost and their Sibling looked to them.</p><p>They huffed at them both in response.</p><p>“How strange!” The Scion of Nightmares commented, as they looked around the chamber. As they flared their wings, the red essence dotting the chamber gathered around them—it was a sight that Ghost was familiar with, yet unfamiliar with, as Grimmchild folded their wings around them, with a hint of dissatisfaction. “I could feel something before, but it’s here no longer. Did you burn it yourself? It does not feel like so.” They craned their head, as their Sibling stood up—looking more solemn than usual, Ghost noted. “Does that mean it still haunts you yet?”</p><p>If there was an answer to whatever Grimmchild was asking, their Sibling didn’t answer. More pointedly, they ignored them.</p><p>They only stared at Grimmchild uncomprehendingly.</p><p>
  <em>The Nightmare Child grew. I expected something once I offered my Nightmare, but not this.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Neither did I.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>We should not dally here.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>I know. Sister should be waiting for us.</strong>
</p><p>At their shared affirmation, both looked to Grimmchild. The Nightmare Scion canted their head at both of them, in response.</p><p>“So you’re in agreement? No fight will take place? … That just leaves the next step.” They chirped, with vague disappointment in their voice. The carnage-loving thing. “Though I would want to go and see how things play out… I won’t be accompanying you to the White Palace, Ghost.”</p><p>Ghost canted their head—posing the silent, obvious question. Grimmchild looked on.</p><p>“I’ll be waiting for you all to wake up, of course. I rather like you all— Even the angry one.” They answered, as their eyes crinkled. They looked upward, as if staring at something that neither Ghost, nor their sibling could see. “But, to enter that closely-guarded dream this way has consequences, I would think. I don’t want any part of that. … Or, I would think I shouldn’t?” Grimmchild asked themselves, before shrugging. They blinked their red eyes slowly, and for a moment, something that wasn’t supposed to be there was reflected in their gaze.</p><p>Grimmchild shook their head, shortly after, and looked at them both intently.</p><p>“Are you sure that’s what you would want to do?”</p><p>What could they mean?</p><p>Ghost canted their head.</p><p>But surprisingly, their tall sibling nodded, without hesitation.</p><p>Ghost stared at them for a moment, before nodding their head.</p><p>“Very well. Don’t think too badly for me for not being able to see you off.” Grimmchild conceded, with a small smile. “… Though, because we’re friends, Ghost, I’ll do something more. That dream is on the verge of collapse—so don’t stay for too long, or you might not be able to get out. … Even <em>with </em>the Dream Nail.” The child murmured darkly, before tipping their head playfully. “Okay?”</p><p>The smaller of the two Vessels nodded.</p><p>As Grimmchild bowed, simultaneously, both siblings bowed back, as their figure began retreating, and dispersed with a flourish of flame.</p><p>The two siblings, now alone, stood together.</p><p>If there was something that could have been said between them, Ghost didn’t know. When they looked at their sibling’s face, all they saw was resoluteness of a kind—but what Grimmchild said lingered.</p><p>While their Sibling’s demeanor inspired something, and made them feel a certain way, that strange feeling they had welled within them again. It felt foreign in many ways, but there was that sense of trepidation. Anxiety.</p><p>Fear?</p><p>As if sensing this, their large Sibling knelt down, and pat their head comfortingly. They were gazing at them, and waited for the Ghost of Hallownest to say something. Waiting for them to make a choice.</p><p>
  <strong>Would you find fault with me, if I said I wanted to only go to ensure Sister’s safety?</strong>
</p><p>Ghost’s admittance hung in the air for a time, as their sibling rested their hand there.</p><p>
  <em>None whatsoever.</em>
</p><p>Ghost paused.</p><p>
  <strong>Would you be disappointed, if the Pale King wasn’t there?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I would be.</em>
</p><p>They lowered their gaze, as they thought back to their initial apprehensions. How at peace their Sibling seemed, in the midst of a nightmare. They couldn’t say it, because if they asked outright, their sibling wouldn’t respond to them, though they might convey the answer soundlessly—but the thought dawned on them then. There was a very real fear of theirs, gnawing at the back of their mind.</p><p>That while they would go to find Hornet, their Sibling, like before, would leave to chase after the Pale King—even knowing the implications of Grimmchild’s warning.</p><p>They would be left behind again.</p><p>The realization made them lower their head further, until their gaze met where the ground would be.</p><p>
  <strong>… You wouldn’t go anywhere I couldn’t follow, would you?</strong>
</p><p>Gently, their Sibling raised their hand away from their head, and held their hand instead— mirroring what they had done for them prior, before the start of this endeavor.</p><p>As they turned to look at them, in that moment, their Sibling was different—but so were they.</p><p>Their Sibling’s childish round eyes met with theirs— instead of being fully-grown, they were small again. Their horns only had two prongs, and their cape covered the whole of the body.</p><p>In spite of this, their Sibling was still bigger than them in their youngling state, even when brought to the beginning of it all. They were both nymphs again, standing together on the platform before the Abyss—in a facsimile of a moment that they might have wished for, and hoped for, for all this time.</p><p>Their Sibling continued to hold their hand as their surroundings melted away— the presence of the nightmare vanished completely, leaving nothing in its wake. Nothing but them, and the Void.</p><p>
  <em>You answered mine call in time of need; thusly, I will heed yours.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But this time, Ghost. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Instead of you coming to collect me, I assure you of this— I will return on my own.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As long as you continue to call for me, however long it may take, I will answer.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In the face of history and impending catastrophe, I may be many things— but I will not be another you would lose again. </em>
</p><p>Their Sibling was looking at them kindly, they realized.</p><p>
  <em>Will you believe me?</em>
</p><p>‘Will’, and not ‘would’.</p><p>To that, Ghost let go of their hand. This time, at a loss for words, they did the only thing they could.</p><p>Ghost embraced their sibling.</p><p>With both arms, the Sibling held them back.</p><p>In response, Ghost pressed their face into their Sibling’s shoulder.</p><p>
  <strong>Don’t take too long.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I’ll try not to.</em>
</p><p>The reassurance was heartfelt, and made their chest hurt, but feel lighter at the same time. Taking a another breath that they didn’t need, Ghost let go of their sibling, and took a step back.</p><p>
  <strong>I’ll be waiting for you to come home.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I know. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m looking forward to it.</em>
</p><p>That made Ghost want to laugh. This was a parting of a kind, but the thought of meeting again gave them a sense of joy. How absurd, their sibling was. How<em> dare</em> they. They were supposed to be born at the same time. How could they be so much, in spite of everything they had gone through? They had expressed time and time again that they wanted to catch up to their long-lost sibling repeatedly, but this just solidified exactly that. How foolish their sibling was, to think themselves tarnished when they were anything but.</p><p>They wanted to be able to bear this brand of muted audacity, too.</p><p>With newfound resolve, the Ghost of Hallownest began to focus. They wanted to let all their siblings feel this, too. What joy and wonder there was to growing up—and that there was still much to look forward to. That with meetings came partings, and though finality existed, there was hope beyond the end.</p><p>That was what everyone gave their lives for.</p><p>Their focus sang out to the Void. The Lord of Shades sang in a bygone lullaby that was imparted to them, to share with the whole whom their mother would never be able to meet.</p><p>In response, the Void Heart pulsed, quelled, before the whole of the Void joined them in chorus.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope springs eternal.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Interlude IV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A peek through the eyes of Hallownest's Protector.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>They hadn’t come yet, and she had gotten anxious. She had been told to go first, and under normal circumstances, such a thing wouldn’t be fraying at her nerves.</p><p>Anxiety was never a thing that bothered her until now, but the monotony and lifeless of the Palace, and the fact she felt all alone in this place was a good cause for it. Normally in her childhood, she always had accompaniment with her mother, her father, or the Hollow Knight. She didn’t trust any Hallownest retainer, and her mother had commended her on quick wit for coming to the same conclusion she had.</p><p>In this demented version of the White Palace, it seemed like less of her childhood home, and more like a mish-mashed memory of it. In the expanse that was initially after the Palace gate, there was nothing but a sea of clouds. Not wanting to stay in one place, lest the walls close in on her, she started forward, despite knowing better to wait.</p><p>There were bugs here. Retainers… that didn’t feel like real things. She had seen the retainers employed by the palace, and thought them all as sycophants. She bullied them and didn’t trust them at all, but in this place— the Dream Realm, she trusted them even less.</p><p>This place was her childhood home, and not.</p><p>As she threw her needle into alcoves to climb higher, she tried to avoid eye contact with the retainers, who pressed their heads into the floor as she flew by. She shook her head, just barely managing to hide her disgust.</p><p>She pressed onward.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>… Navigating through the palace, in spite of the lack of flooring and the endless sky it seemed to be floating in, was a lot easier up until a point.</p><p>Specifically, when she realized that for certain, this was most definitely not the White Palace she knew. Saws of innumerable number and sizes laid haphazardly in the way of the ascending climb, with no stairs, or anything, save for the wayward platform—and worse yet, the serrated edge just so happened to be perfect for shredding through her silk.</p><p>But all at once, during the middle of her ascent, a cold wind blew through the palace, from seemingly nowhere.</p><p>It stopped her in her tracks, as she felt ice cold, and her fight or flight instinct screamed at her.</p><p>She looked around warily, bristling, with her needle drawn.</p><p>There were no enemies here.</p><p>There was nothing here.</p><p>And yet, she felt the undeniable change in the air, and held her breath.</p><p>The Palace seemed to mute itself, somehow. </p><p>She should have known then that it was the proverbial calm before the storm.</p><p>Everything began shaking violently. As she looked around, she realized just how poor of a spot this was to be in. Cracks, fractures, all manner of breaks within the reality she found herself in were occurring. The floor beneath her was shaking, and above--</p><p>The ceiling was falling.</p><p>Hornet dove immediately, reacting by throwing her needle in an evasive action. She threw her needle through the coorridor of sawblades, the damn things grazing her, as she pressed herself against the wall. What was going on?</p><p>Something had happened-- but what?</p><p>No sooner than she thought that, the precipice above her started falling. Without thinking, she slipped between the sawblades, tearing her dress as she dove, and landed lower-- getting farther from where she assumed she needed to be.</p><p>As the quaking grew more violent, however, she realized it was no longer a matter of just climbing blindly, in an attempt to reach the Pale King.</p><p>The entire ceiling was falling on top of her. Before she could register that properly, an explosion of void magic forced her to look away. </p><p>Like the time she had seen it before, Ghost let out a concussive shriek to destroy the falling debris—and the Hollow Knight quickly and scooped her out of harm’s way. As the scream of magic tore through, Ghost quickly dashed out of the way of the still-falling sawblades.</p><p>Hornet recognized it afterwards--</p><p>Her siblings had arrived, and the Palace—it was falling apart.</p><p>“Ghost, Knight—what’s going on?!” She asked, despite already knowing better. It was better to vocalize it, at least to protest the fact that the Vessels both seemed to be on the same wavelength—the fact that they both emerged from a cloud of void was already concern enough, but was more disconcerting was that they were going in the opposite direction. “Why are we climbing down!?”</p><p>The Hollow Knight shook their head, as they lithely maneuvered down. They flailed their legs slightly as they saw the sheer drop from the room into the next as they saw the spears jut out from the walls— and in turn, the Ghost of Hallownest dove faster.</p><p>Soul and void seeped with their movements, as they crashed through the line of spears that threatened to skewer both her and the Hollow Knight. The spears clattered away, and the Hollow Knight braced themselves.</p><p>They landed with an audible thud to the platform below, and shortly after, she and the Hollow Knight followed suit, as they landed on their feet. Her tall sibling staggered to their knee, as they let Hornet down from their grip.</p><p>Ghost rejoined them, as they stared upward with a visible tenseness in their form. As Hornet looked to them rife with concern, she tried again.</p><p>“Are either of you going to tell me what’s going on?” Again, it was a useless question. She knew it full well, but in spite of that, the Hollow Knight looked to her, looked up, and shook their head at her again. Hornet continued flatly. “It’s not possible to go there anymore, is it?”</p><p>Both the Hollow Knight and the Ghost of Hallownest nodded decisively, in unison.</p><p>“You both are going to have to write to me to explain this nonsense when we’re out of danger.” She demanded, as she rose to her feet. “Do you understand me?”</p><p>To that, the Ghost of Hallownest nodded, but the Hollow Knight only stared at her. Before she could make a comment, however, the latter’s head shot up at the sound of rumbling—</p><p>In all honesty, she didn’t expect them to have that reaction time, in their weakened state—but she noticed it then, too. The speared platform that Ghost smashed through, was falling overhead. Within a fluid moment, the Hollow Knight had thrown both her and Ghost into cover, as they threw themselves backwards.</p><p>“KNIGHT!” She yelled. She forced herself to recover midair, as the Ghost of Hallownest flapped the Monarch’s Wings in protest, staring at the boulder that had now blocked the path, and their sibling from sight.</p><p>Staring out momentarily, as the ground began to shake again, Ghost turned towards Hornet, and began tugging her in the opposite direction—further down, yet.</p><p>“Ghost, you can’t be serious—we can’t leave them!”</p><p>They nodded along with her sentiment, but they still tugged at her dress. Frustrated, she took her needle as she recalled the segment ahead. More saws.</p><p>Hissing under her breath, she grabbed onto her small sibling and tucked them under her arm. In spite of the shaking, her aim found its mark as she threw her needle, and propelled herself with a diagonal lunge.</p><p>Another tremor threw her off balance, as her course seemed set into the saw circuit. As she squirmed and attempted to correct course, the Hollow Knight came crashing from the segment above, reaching out to catch both her and Ghost—not at all dissimilar to the times they used to catch her, when she tried to jump off of tall cupboards—but they must have forgotten they didn’t have a right arm.</p><p>It was a rare moment to see them so panicked.</p><p>They shoved them as close as possible, forcing her and Ghost to take hold of them. Twisting their body in an unnatural way, they stabbed their nail, and drove it deep into the ground— using it as a stopper to keep the three of them from falling into the pit of thorns, as Hornet and Ghost clung to their side.</p><p>The saws ahead taunted her.</p><p>Hornet gasped, as the Hollow Knight lurched. They looked looked down, with a silent plea. The Ghost of Hallownest started squirming at Hornet. Begging her to do something.</p><p>Begging her to move.</p><p>She climbed up, and leapt onto the ledge. Ghost followed suit, jumped ahead with the monarch wings, but without needing words, they both immediately went to help pull the Hollow Knight up, lest their grip give out.</p><p>It took a herculean effort and a half to pull them up—they barely had time to catch their breath, as the castle tremored again. As Hornet nearly ran into the nearest saw blade, the Hollow Knight, through brute force, knocked it off of its circuit. As it embedded itself into the wall, Ghost took the lead again, and the Hollow Knight took the rear.</p><p>She had thought that the climb down would be faster, and it was—but she also thought that it wouldn’t be as perilous. In tandem, she and her siblings moved quickly, together, as a unit. She wasn’t used to such an affair—more pointedly, she had always traveled alone.</p><p>To have others looking out for her in this regard—to take care of others and be more akin to a proper protector, stoked something in her heart. It wasn’t a place she was protecting. These were her siblings.</p><p>As she thought that, another ceiling began to crash down—faster than she had seen them move yet, the Hollow Knight teleported as they plunged their nail into the ground, summoning cracked soul pillars to keep the ceiling from falling. As she darted ahead with Ghost, the both of them jumped down—Hornet shouting as a saw came free from its circuitry, and slashed into a Wingsmould—which sputtered, and exploded.</p><p>What happened was twofold.</p><p>Her explosion caught her off-guard, and her shout had distracted the Ghost of Hallownest.</p><p>They looked at her.</p><p>Without them paying attention to what they were doing, they failed to notice the sawblade falling from the ceiling over them.</p><p>Hornet lurched. With her hand outstretched, she bound them in silk in a desperate bid to pull them out of harm’s way— As she held them close to her chest, she plummeted and hit the other Wingsmould on the way down, leaving her prone on the ground, as she tried to get her bearings. She barely had a second to breath as she scuttled away, as the saw plunged into the ground, like a guillotine blade. She put her back to the wall, away from the fallen furniture— panting, and clutching her small sibling.</p><p>They were still.</p><p>“Ghost?”</p><p>They didn’t react to her. As she looked over them, she realized that a crack had formed on their shell, from where the saw sliced them. Void was leaking out of the cut—and as a kneejerk reaction, she attempted to immediately bind it with silk.</p><p>She couldn’t tell when the Hollow Knight had caught up. They might have teleported again, for what she knew. But as they approached, she tried to keep her voice as even as possible.</p><p>“We’re almost to the end.” She tried, as she went to stand up. Her sibling nodded, and stowed away their nail in an attempt to take Ghost from her, but she shook her head. “You can’t. You only have one arm—you at least need your nail to perform. I—I’ll carry them.”</p><p>Her stutter made her feel weak.</p><p>“We’re almost to the end.” She repeated, trying to affirm it to herself. With Ghost in her arm, she took a deep breath, as she stared at her tall sibling. “We just need to keep going down. I can lead the way from here. I won’t hesitate anymore. Let’s—”</p><p>Another round of rumbling cut her off.</p><p>This time, without bothering to see what part of the Palace would fall on her this time, she jumped down below. She wouldn’t turn back— now steeled to not make another mistake, without hesitation, she threw her needle into the wall, and flew. She darted, and fell, spinning gossamer storms to break her and her sibling’s fall as she dropped down the elevator shaft.</p><p>Everything was like a blur, as desperation took hold of her.</p><p>Danger was everywhere she looked. She ignored the sight of retainers exploding into Dream Essence, and wondered if the same would happen to her and her siblings if they couldn’t make it out in time. Was her vision dimming from the stress, or the panic? She didn’t know.</p><p>Faster. Faster.</p><p>She dropped down as fast as she could. The halls all blended together, as she finally dropped into the platform that started her ascent—but that meant clearing the abyss below. Would the structure be able to handle her weight, if the palace from above was crashing around them already?</p><p>She had to try.</p><p>Throwing her needle to the entrance which they came from, she darted as fast as she could, willing herself forward with every bit of strength she could muster.</p><p>Everything was collapsing around them, like the Cast-Off Shell— but the Cast-Off Shell ultimately had nothing to do with her, even though she was its sentinel. The White Palace, was much more personal. This time, nothing would remain of her childhood.</p><p>She wouldn’t be buried in a memory, least of a demented one of her childhood.</p><p>If she stopped here, she would never be able to repay her debts to her mother.</p><p>Forward—forward!</p><p>Her soul was crying out to return to the place she belonged.</p><p>She wanted to go home with her siblings.</p><p>This place wasn’t her home anymore.</p><p>Long had it not been.</p><p>She didn’t want to stay here.</p><p>Her thoughts raced like this, as she looked on with shock.</p><p>Her thread snapped, as she began to fall into the clouds below.</p><p>There was a sound caught in her throat, she realized.</p><p>She wanted to cry, perhaps. She wanted to scream.</p><p>She—</p><p>Wanted to call out for someone.</p><p>The thought of doing that until now, had never crossed her mind. Not for a very long time. As she stared at the silver ceiling coming to crush her, lest she fall into the endless sky with her sibling, her breath left her.</p><p>… But at that moment, something happened.</p><p>Strands of silk erupted into a web, catching Hornet and Ghost both harmlessly—and binding the ceiling together, in its entirety.</p><p>The amount of silk was staggering. Left speechless, Hornet looked on as a bridge of silk opened before her. As dream essence fluttered in her eyes, she saw the stature of one she thought she would never see again right before her.</p><p>It had been so long.</p><p>“I swear, that lout can’t even do one thing right. Our daughter comes, while he sequesters himself away to rot.” A voice deep, and full of venom spoke out. “Pitiful.”</p><p>“That’s not very fair to say considering he guided us here as beacon.” Came a gentle admonishment. “You had every right to refuse his summon.”</p><p>“Like the other? I see not the king’s watchdog.” Came the voice’s derisive condescension, but she did not comment on the fact that she had, indeed, answered a summon. The Pale King’s summons, at that.</p><p>“He is working hard, I assure you.”</p><p>“Watching is not much of an occupation.” She scoffed. “And what good is your presence here, Monomon? You are a teacher by trade, are you not?” She folded her arms derisively, as she scowled. “Really. This is why I have to do everything myself.”</p><p>In response, Monomon only chuckled.</p><p>“How harsh you remain, sister.”</p><p>Time seemed to stop in that moment, though the crumbling of the Palace continued. The details of who stood before Hornet jumped out, all at once.</p><p>Her wave of the navy blue mourning veil she had never been seen without. Her mask with six eyes, and her tall, crescent horns that she was proud to have inherited. A height that she did not have, but would recognize anywhere—along with the expertly-woven web, of silk strands more akin to steel. The debris above was being held aloft by such an indomitable web— and the maker of it held a needle almost identical to hers, except it was suited for a height she did not have.</p><p>Hornet lay in the web spun by the one and only Beast of Deepnest. A terror to behold to all, but to her—</p><p>“Mother?”</p><p>“Dear child.” Herrah immediately answered— her tone changing into something sweeter, as her mask seemed to crinkle slightly, with a smile. “You’ve grown.”</p><p>“How— <em>how—“</em></p><p>“We are here to return you to where you need to be.” The Teacher supplied simply, as she held out her tendrils to Hornet to take. “Might you be able to stand?”</p><p>“I— yes.” She managed, and accepted the help.</p><p>Ghost remained unconscious, still tucked beneath her arm. She stared at the ghosts of the Dreamers, apprehensive, yet dumbfounded. She was being confronted with literal ghosts from her past, and the mix of emotions was difficult to process.</p><p>Amazed.</p><p>Bewildered.</p><p>Confused.</p><p>Her emotions were piling up, as she couldn’t think of what to say, as she rose to her feet.</p><p>She had to respond, though.</p><p>She—</p><p>“Of course she can stand. Would you think weak, the Daughter of Deepnest?” Herrah said imperiously, speaking for her. Her ghost was plainly translucent, but she really was unmistakable. Tears pricked Hornet’s eyes as she stared at the visage of her mother.</p><p>She came here to see the Pale King, but this— this…</p><p>Without realizing it, she had begun to cry— and hastily attempted to scrub her eyes the moment the realization came. She would not show weakness— she would not—</p><p>“Daughter.”</p><p>Hornet froze, as she felt her mother’s touch between her horns.</p><p>“I know what you would want to say. I know what you would do. The next time we meet, I pray we will have all the time in the world to speak— but something beyond imagination comes, and soon, this dream will be buried, and forgotten.” Herrah spoke, as the silk of her web glinted in the pale light. Was it just Hornet’s imagination, though, or was the palace getting darker? “I too, have wished for more time, but I have never regretted this path. I have never regretted your birth, and for you, I would give my all, even in death beyond. You’ve done well, my daughter—but you have no permanent place among the dead yet.”</p><p>“Mother, I—“</p><p>“The exit to this accursed place lies beyond.” The Beast interrupted, smoothly. She took away her hand, though Hornet didn’t want that. “Do not look back, do you understand me?”</p><p>Hornet froze, and lowered her head.</p><p>... She couldn't argue with that.</p><p>“Yes, mother.”</p><p>In turn, Herrah knowingly nodded.</p><p>“Sister, I hate to interrupt-- but the King’s light is keeping it at bay, but I fear it may not be for long.” Monomon murmured, as she looked below, into the endless sea of clouds.</p><p>“More likely Wyrm is offering himself as bait." Herrah intoned. "He might not be as lousy as a father as I credited him to be, if his intent is to sacrifice himself for the children.”</p><p>“Hypothesizing it is fine and well, but we mustn’t stay for too long ourselves.”</p><p>Without retort or warning, Herrah moved.</p><p>She tore past Hornet with a speed that betrayed her stature, as silk sang out with Herrah’s call.</p><p>“Sister, hold—“ Monomon said suddenly. “It comes— <em>Herrah!</em>”</p><p>“Daughter, go!”</p><p>Without further elaboration, though Hornet desperately wanted to turn around to see what manner of creature that the Dreamers had been called to help them against, she knew better. It had to be strong enough to destroy the White Palace. It was something insurmountable, and with her mother’s instruction, and the life of her sibling literally in her arm, she knew she couldn’t stay. As she sagged in place, Monomon’s voice lulled her back to the closest she could get to reality, within this dream. The Teacher had moved behind her, and gently pushed her forward.</p><p>She didn’t look back, because Monomon was preventing her from doing so.</p><p>“Little Princess. When the short one wakes, give them my regards for taking heed of my last lesson.” Monomon said kindly. “There’s much I would still like to say, but alas. In succinct summary, it was so nice to see you both again. Be well; the future awaits.”</p><p>Without saying anything more, Monomon let go, and flew past Hornet, too, as the silk pathway beckoned her forward. It trembled, and shook, as the threads began to snap.</p><p>Hornet took a deep breath.</p><p>Clenching her needle tightly, she threw it.</p><p>When the strung wound taught, she held her breath, and forced herself forward with her sibling in tow.</p><p>The future.</p><p>She had spoken of it before to Ghost when they came to the Cast-Off Shell, but it only dawned on her now, that she really had a future beyond this palace. Beyond this place. Was there a need to reconcile, or speak with a bug that denied her a last visitation? A last opportunity to speak?</p><p>No, she didn’t need that.</p><p>She didn’t need it.</p><p>There was something still waiting for her beyond, and her sleeping heart, long laid frigid by loneliness and solitude, by that one instruction given to her by the Pale King.</p><p>He told her to wait and to protect Hallownest—and that duty was fulfilled now.</p><p>How could she only realize it now?</p><p>With her duty fulfilled, she could do what she wanted.</p><p>The doorway shined brightly in her eyes, as she raced against the encroaching darkness.</p><p>She would finally be free.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In the waking world, Hornet shot up immediately as consciousness came to her. She panted and tried to catch her breath, floundering for Ghost, who she had been holding in her arm, just seconds ago. The Dream Nail clattered out of her hand, and onto the ground, as she felt a clingy, numbing, chill.</p><p>Glancing to the Kingsmould’s remains, she looked on in horror as she saw its corpse splatter, and ooze into the cracks in the ground, as the Void had done in when it emptied itself out of the Black Egg Temple—leaving nothing but stained, white armor in its wake. The last traces of dream essence turned black, and fizzled away into black smoke.</p><p>There were no words for her horror as she skittered backwards out in a kneejerk reaction. As she glanced around for her siblings, relief took her as she saw Ghost stir—particularly, because the Nightmare Child—or Grimmchild, she now knew properly, was beside them. She scowled, in confusion.</p><p>When did Grimmchild get here?</p><p>They were already wide awake, and after a greeting Ghost with a mewl and a nuzzle, they turned to her— with their bright, scarlet eyes trained her way.</p><p>… Unless she was imagining it, they looked bigger again. <em>Somehow. </em></p><p>Really, how Ghost put up with that creature, she would never know. She hated the fact they were nothing but inconsistent. And if their presence wasn't already enough to put her on edge, it was the fact that as both Ghost and Grimmchild both glanced at each other, the Hollow Knight did not move.</p><p>They were almost always statue-like, with how still they could be. But they would have woken by now. As Ghost tilted their head up to look at them from their lap, what would have normally been met with a look of acknowledgement of some kind, wasn’t met at all.</p><p>They were still sleeping—peacefully, it seemed.</p><p>But as Ghost stared at them, where she expected an eventual reaction, nothing happened.</p><p>They still slept.</p><p>All at once, Hornet began shaking her head.</p><p>“No. No.” She repeated in denial. “They—they were supposed to be behind me. Behind us! Were they not there!? How could I have not have noticed? Ghost, I—”</p><p>Ghost shook their head at her, in that moment.</p><p>They stared at her with their soulful eyes, as they stayed stationary in the Hollow Knight’s lap.</p><p>“They’re still in there.” Hornet said breathlessly. “I don’t believe this. I can’t believe it. That fool! Why would they do that?! I, we—“</p><p>Hornet cut herself off before she could finish that sentence. She thought to what she had been told by her mother, and how the dream was on the verge of being forgotten. She thought of her siblings then, and how both had consistently been in sync, on the same page the entire while entirely, as they both tried to urge her to the entrance as she made her escape.</p><p>“You already knew.” She said quietly, accusingly.</p><p>Ghost lowered their head.</p><p>“Did you know that this was going to happen?”</p><p>As she looked over to Ghost, they seemed just as forlorn as she did, as the didn’t look at her. After a moment, they delicately removed themselves from the Hollow Knight’s lap, and went to the remainder of the palace entrance with the chalk that she had given them who knows how long ago—and started scribbling.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <strong>[warned-too-late]</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>[take-to-king-plan]</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>[not-know-bad]</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>[dream-collapse-retrieve-sister]</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>[sibling-go-to-light]</strong>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Go to light? What—” She repeated, with great offense. “Clarify, Ghost. Light? You mean to tell me they stayed back to find the Pale King? Or were you told that they would join him?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <strong>[find]</strong>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Hornet covered her eyes with her hands.</p><p>“Ghost— do you realize what you’re saying? Our sibling might be trapped in a dream, trapped in perpetual sleep— Just like the Dreamers.” Hornet said, more trying to explain it to herself, rather than Ghost. “And you mean to tell me, that they did this, all because they’re looking for a miserable bug that didn’t want to be found. A bug that disappeared an age ago with no warning, no explanation, and refused to see us while knowing we were there—“</p><p>Hornet stopped as she pondered who she was describing, in that moment— and felt great shame for it. She swiftly cut herself off, her temper seething silently as she swore to herself.</p><p>“You shouldn’t be too cross at them.” Grimmchild, of all creatures present in the ruin, spoke up.</p><p>They could speak.</p><p>Since WHEN could they speak?</p><p>She glared at them.</p><p>“I have every right to be angry, and you have no right to speak within this family affair.” Hornet said coldly. “I suggest you stay silent and know your place.”</p><p>Grimmchild’s expression didn’t change, nor did they say anything in response, but they did shrink back at her intimidation display—moving to cling to the back of Ghost’s head. All the while, the Hollow Knight remained undisturbed.</p><p>Ghost, on the other hand, stared at her, before taking to writing again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <strong>[sibling-will-return]</strong>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>She stared at the message that her sibling had plainly wrote.</p><p>What could she even say in response to that?</p><p>In the midst of all this, the one being spoken of, was still fast asleep—completely oblivious to the amount of distress that she was going through. Not even Ghost, maybe, could understand.</p><p>Between learning the Pale King refused them and had called for the Dreamers for aid against whatever entity had invaded, seeing her mother again, even in a dream—and now learning that her Sibling, the only had willfully chosen to stay behind, to look for their father— she felt like a mess.</p><p>Hornet felt like she had no control over anything, anymore.</p><p>Sighing, she… sat back down.</p><p>As she did so, Ghost moved to her, and gently tugged her. At their insistence, she allowed them to shepherd her to where their tall sibling sat asleep— sitting beside them, and not in their lap outright as a show of stubborn pride. She wasn’t a child anymore. She leaned against their side carefully, and didn’t say anything as Ghost sat beside her—with Grimmchild still clinging to the back of their head.</p><p>They made eye contact with her again, but she didn’t say anything. Really, she only tolerated them for Ghost’s sake, but they were treading on cracked glass with her—but frankly, after everything that just happened, she didn’t want to fight.</p><p>She didn’t want to fight.</p><p>She didn’t want to fight with her siblings anymore, either.</p><p>“Have you calmed down now?” Grimmchild asked innocuously. She would have preferred to be asked that by someone else, but at this point, she would take it. Talking to someone who could actually answer her would do wonders— Lest she grab her needle follow through her initial threat.</p><p>… Not that Ghost would allow that.</p><p>She sighed again, and leaned slightly against the Hollow Knight. Wishing in some respect they would respond, or maybe comfort her.</p><p>“Yes.” Hornet paused. She cast them a side glance after. “… Should I assume you were aware of this situation, as well?”</p><p>“I was.”</p><p>She fought herself to not be annoyed with them, but she could feel herself scowling.</p><p>At least they were honest.</p><p>At least that, if nothing else.</p><p>“I let them know it was dangerous to go there. They didn’t know it then, when they allowed you first, you see.” They supplied smoothly. “My entry in this performance was somewhat late, and diminished into a guest appearance. … Since, as you said—I have no right to intervene in a family affair. The Heart thought so too.”</p><p>“… As you say.” She said curtly. Again, she tired of things that spoke in riddles to her, but at this point, she was too tired to contest it, or even puzzle the meaning. What was plainer, was more important. Her gaze softened slightly, as she turned away. Hornet hesitated, before speaking again.</p><p>“… I thank you for your aid and understanding.”</p><p>Grimmchild blinked.</p><p>“So you <em>can</em> be nice.”</p><p>“And I see now, though you’re now capable of speaking, you still mewl incessantly.”</p><p>“And? You speak like a brute.”</p><p>“A Beast, you mean.” Hornet corrected. “Better that, than like I’m always speaking a soliloquy.”</p><p>“If I didn’t, things would be much too quiet.” Grimmchild responded cattily, undeterred this time. Their tail slapped against Ghost’s back, as they looked at her with a coy expression, and cast a glance to Ghost. “… Would you not agree?”</p><p>Hornet stared, before bowing her head demurely.</p><p>“… Point taken.” She conceded.</p><p>Despite saying that, Grimmchild offered a moment of silence then as they smiled, and their red eyes crinkled. She almost felt like smiling back, but didn’t. She didn’t like them that much.</p><p>Now calmer, she didn’t feel as anxious, though the main issue at hand continued to bite at her conscious.</p><p>“Ghost. You said they would return, yes?” She spoke up again. “Our sibling.”</p><p>Plainly, Ghost nodded. Grimmchild followed their movements, before sliding off of them and sitting at their free side. Hornet blinked, before she raised her head, and looked to their still-sleeping sibling. Rarely did they ever look that peaceful.</p><p>“… We should take them to a place more comfortable.” She murmured quietly, and considerately. “For when they awaken, Ghost.”</p><p>No sooner than she said that, however, Grimmchild yelled.</p><p>“So you CAN be nice!”</p><p>Their exclamation was met with swift needlepoint, and a screech of indignation.</p><p>All the while, the Hollow Knight continued to sleep, unmoved.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Another long chapter; Hornet deserves it, though. Meanwhile, Grimmchild needs to stop leaning on the fourth wall, haha.</p><p>I hope my characterization is okay. This chapter was hard for me to write, too, because I was having difficulty deciding things. I ended up taking inspiration from some of the cut dialogue of the Dreamers, to get a feel for things.</p><p>But as always, thank you for reading.</p><p>EDIT: If you read this when I first posted it, I found a part that got clipped off, and I readjusted the front of the Interlude. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And for our wayward child...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the ceiling fell, it had been their immediate reaction to plant their nail into the ground, and use soul pillars to keep things from falling. Hornet looked considerably worse for wear, and Ghost was unconscious now. They, themselves, were no exception as their Shade protested the overuse of their ability— but their limit had to be tested, regardless. If not now, when would they do it?</p><p>The last thing they wanted was for their siblings to be hurt.</p><p>So they fought.</p><p>They almost were bisected by a saw, had they not had the kneejerk reaction to teleport beyond it. They had heard Hornet shouting for them, and quickly raced downward to meet with her and Ghost again.</p><p>They accidentally almost got everyone impaled in a pit of thorns— but that had solidified the whole affair.</p><p>They knew it to be certain; the Palace was a death trap in this state, and leaving post-haste was the best idea they could afford.</p><p>Even if it meant forsaking their search.</p><p>Ghost being compromised was ultimately the thing that did it. Though they had properly reconciled, to leave like this, felt wrong. Their sister bound their wound with silk, but under normal circumstances, their impression of Ghost differed. Such a wound, even that serious, shouldn’t have been enough to deter the Ghost of Hallownest— a cracked mask was a serious injury, but if they could dare to imagine it, it was almost as if something was keeping them from waking.</p><p>They didn’t have the time to ponder it, however.</p><p>They were frozen with shock.</p><p>They were motionless in the midst of the ruin crumbling around them.</p><p>At present, they were staring hard at the floor— The spot where Hornet had disappeared.</p><p>When their sister jumped below with Ghost in tow, they immediately went to follow— only for the floor to close on them.</p><p>The hole vanished, and they found themselves to be at a loss, as they knelt to the ground, hand pressed to the floor— as if trying to make it give way. So they could will themselves to where everyone else was, but the void refused to answer them.</p><p>They stared, forlorn.</p><p>Had they been too slow? Had they been too late?</p><p>Their gaze was trained on the spot as the palace quaked again.</p><p>A fluttering breeze caught their attention.</p><p>Lifting their head, they saw the adjacent wall Hornet had been leaning on, crumble before their eyes.</p><p>It beckoned.</p><p>Their intuition spoke to them that that was not the correct way.</p><p>That the way out was where she had gone.</p><p>But in the midst of the quaking and shaking of the palace, they found themselves staring at the wisp of a monarchfly. Its six wings fluttered as it flew by their head. It was a serene thing to bear witness to, in spite of all the cacophony, and the destruction around them.</p><p>It was incredibly out of place, and yet they found themselves drawn to it.</p><p>From beyond the wall, they felt the wind blowing—and they understood.</p><p>As if in a trance, they walked into the opening, and found that nothing was shaking anymore.</p><p>At the very least, was this part of the dream stable?</p><p>They asked themselves this question, and received no answer.</p><p>All the saw was a familiar glow of sealing magic— one they knew all too well.</p><p>As they walked forward thoughtlessly to investigate the Seal of Binding, the path behind them crumbled, and closed as their cracked soul pillars shattered into particles. The shaking, for some reason, stopped entirely, as the Dream sealed itself— as if it was isolating itself from its compromised portion.</p><p>What this meant for them, they didn’t know.</p><p>What they understood, however, was that there was no turning back.</p><p>As their eyes fell to the stone tablet and the Seal of Binding adorning the passage way.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>To witness secrets sealed, one must endure the harshest punishment.</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They stared dispassionately.</p><p>Without hesitation, the Hollow Knight walked to the edge of the platform, jumped, and began ascending.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>It might have been for hours.</p><p>It could have been for even longer.</p><p>They were already very bad at keeping track of time, as it was.</p><p>Beyond the endless lines of spears and the circuitry of sawblades, they found it fit to dismantle every barrier that could stand in their way. At least, however, the ceiling wasn’t collapsing overheard— it was some cause for stability, but the further they went in, the more precarious, dangerous, and unforgiving the path became. Their path had always been a painful one, with little room for reprieve— but this seemed to summarize it all.</p><p>The noted that the path behind them was swiftly disappearing.</p><p>Either they would make it, or they would fall into the endless dream below, forever, and ever, without end.</p><p>It had been like that in their never-ending battle against the Old Light, they remembered. It wasn’t something they liked to think about, because all instances of it blurred. They didn’t remember it well, nowadays— but they knew. How they never had a moment of reprieve, between the rain of swords and constant beams of light, part of them once remembered that the considered the idea that she would never tire.</p><p>She always screamed, and howled.</p><p>They ignored her dispassionately.</p><p>Now that they could think without damning themselves immediately to oblivion, they considered the possibility that the Old Light drove herself mad. She was the Infection— yet was it not possible that in her own wrath and desperation to not be forgotten, she forsook all semblance of reason?</p><p>… It was too late to consider now, whether that was the root of the Infection or not.</p><p>But in a way, they were reminded of the White Lady. How she had so staunchly denied and rejected the Vessels, until that moment of finality— maybe the Old Light’s wrath was wrought from rejection, too.</p><p>The Nightmare King, after all, had said she was discarded by her children. Forsaken, and left to be forgotten— Left to die a lonely, final death, all in another’s company.</p><p>At least, if the plan succeeded, they would have had each other for all eternity.</p><p>… what a thought.</p><p>As they traced back through those memories, they felt pity for her, perhaps. Who they were back then might not have felt anything. Only disdain? Maybe not even that. Maybe it was just pure apathy.</p><p>They wondered. It was too late to toy with the hypotheticals of it all, but maybe…</p><p>Maybe she just wanted to be loved.</p><p>…</p><p>… Maybe she had been heartbroken.</p><p>…</p><p>They paused at the realization.</p><p>So that’s what it was.</p><p>That was their flaw, too.</p><p>Their similarity.</p><p>The thought left then numbed, as they shook their head to themselves. However much they could empathize with her now, it ultimately meant nothing, in the grand scheme of things. She was already long gone, buried in the blackest of night, and they already didn’t enjoy entertaining her memory lest her voice come back to haunt them.</p><p>But it never had.</p><p>And already, by now, they were starting forget what that sound was like.</p><p>Even if they felt as if they could understand her more, it didn’t justify how she hurt others. How her wrath caused a downfall of a kingdom. How her wrath was ultimately a campaign of genocide, and both her and the moth tribe being no more as a result of it. Many had suffered, all for this.</p><p>They thought it was sad.</p><p>As they thought back, maybe they didn’t hate her.</p><p>However, they still could never forgive her— and they never would.</p><p>Truly, Gods were truly a strange sort. In their experience, they always seemed to hyper-fixate on certain things close to what their focuses were. Perhaps the Pale King and White Lady were no exception to that, either.</p><p>Still.</p><p>… Imagine just wanting to be loved.</p><p>The Hollow Knight lowered their head in thought, as they continued forward.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>As they climbed, their memories seemed to jump out at them, jumbled, as they found themselves reminded of their life up until this point. More specifically, the past.</p><p>The Soul Idols only attributed to it. This place had idols fashioned in their image— and gave them one of two reactions. It made them wonder how others saw them, and they felt like these were placed here to mock them—for the fact that whoever envisioned them as this figure, saw fit that they had unlimited soul.</p><p>They weren’t that Vessel, anymore.</p><p>Long had they not been, but they found it ironic that they had manifested in someone else’s dream this way.</p><p>To the heights they couldn’t reach for a lack of dexterity, they pushed themselves to the utmost limit—creating soul pillars as platforms to aid their ascent, however taxing it was. They struck sawblades into the walls at their own discretion.</p><p>They climbed.</p><p>They climbed, and climbed—</p><p>Was there an end to this place?</p><p>In a way, they felt reminded of their past, when they climbed the Abyss to greet the light at the top.</p><p>Would it be the same, or different?</p><p>Their heart surged as they reminded themselves that that darkness had been much more perilous than the pale light that illuminated this place. Not to mention the void-churning sight of their countless siblings failing the climb— or was that a sight they knew at all?</p><p>The darkness had shrouded the carnage, but not the outcome— but inherently, they must have understood. The Abyss covered their eyes, but not their ears. Perhaps that was the kindest thing the Abyss had done for any of the siblings, aside from letting any of them escape into the world, after their father sealed the door.</p><p>Or was it all just the same?</p><p>They didn’t know, and couldn’t tell.</p><p>They hoped their siblings were well— All the ones sleeping at the other shore, and the ones who were waiting for their return.</p><p>Perhaps they would see the Glade again, sometime. They would ask their still-living siblings to accompany them when they got back. That would be something all three of them could do. Maybe privately, on their own, they would like to revisit the Abyss.</p><p>The thought comforted and steeled their resolve, as they willed themselves to the end of the thicket, to the path beyond— though pricked, scarred, and battered.</p><p>Supposing that, maybe they could say the same about the path that they had overcome. There was a sense of accomplishment— an echo of triumph in their movements, though exhaustion threatened to claim them.</p><p>Threatened, at any rate.</p><p>They were in a dream.</p><p>They only way at this point, to make them stop, was to kill them.</p><p>As they focused and knit together what wounds they could, they staggered to the drop before them, and braced themselves for death, as they fell through a tight chute riddled with briars. They had fallen into a chamber, of some kind.</p><p>A bright flash of light welcomed them, then.</p><p>As they opened their eyes, the pale light of the Seal of Binding greeted them, instead.</p><p>It was the largest one they had seen yet; maybe it was bigger than the door of the Black Egg.</p><p>It was even larger than the prototype they had found at the Weaver Den.</p><p>This Seal was perfected, and looked more akin to a work of art, decorated with imagery and even their own sigil— but that romantic notion was swiftly replaced with a reminder, that seals were made to protect something precious.</p><p>As their lifted their head and took majesty of the thorns and ivy that blanketed the chamber, they stopped and stared at what was before the closed door— initially, only to get a glimpse beyond.</p><p>Instead, the last thing registered then—</p><p>The final obstacle left to conquer.</p><p>Framed by the brambles and pale light, they saw themselves.</p><p>The Pure Vessel stood tall, with their back turned to them, like so long ago when they first appeared in their dream. They were garbed in their ceremonial armor and silver-white shroud, and their pure nail glittered in the light. They acted as if they had not already registered their presence, but the Hollow Knight knew they were entirely aware of them.</p><p>It made no sense for them to be here, yet it made perfect sense at the same time. It had to be the result of the fact they never appeared in their own nightmare, and perhaps due to the dream of someone else.</p><p>Perhaps, their Pure Self, too, had come here for the same reason they had.</p><p>But regardless of the reasons why, it was undeniable now— the Pure Vessel was the last thing standing in defense of what was ahead.</p><p>Knowing that, the Hollow Knight took a breath.</p><p>
  <em>As promised.</em>
</p><p>In spite of their uneven, battered form, and disregarding the fact that they only had one arm, the Hollow Knight assumed their favored stance— swinging out their broken nail in challenge.</p><p>
  <em>I came back for you.</em>
</p><p>In turn, the Pure Vessel hunched over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Judgment.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was entirely too excited. The end is near.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their armor trembled, as the whole of the chamber shook with silent rage— and concussively, their adornments shattered like fine porcelain.</p><p>The shards of it all scattered about.</p><p>Their ceremonial garb had been cast aside.</p><p>The Pure Vessel turned around, facing them, with their right hand cast in front of them, and their nail held at the ready.</p><p>This creature of indomitable, silent pride and strength.</p><p>The embodiment of their nothingness stood before them, ready to fight. As they marveled at their past self briefly, they thought to themselves passively.</p><p>Once upon a time, that had been them.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Do not think. </em> </strong>
</p><p>The threat was acted upon instantaneously. In a flash, the gap between the two closed in an instant, as nail met against nail.</p><p>The clash of metal resounded as the Hollow Knight stopped them with a parry— the force causing a concussive blast of air, as the two faces mirrored one another.</p><p>Of course, it would come down to something like this.</p><p>They almost wanted to laugh.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Do not speak. </em> </strong>
</p><p>Easy. They already had no voice to cry suffering, even if they wanted to— Even as their other self embedded their form with soul daggers and ran them through with their pure nail. Their Shade was writhing in pain from within their shell, as void leaked from their body.</p><p>They were not able to scream.</p><p>That capability was never theirs, and they had never needed it.</p><p>But there were times where they wished they could speak.</p><p>Whenever Hornet spoke to them one-sidedly with her hatchling babble, whenever Dryya or Ogrim asked them if they understood after lessons of fencing or gallantry. How the two would devolve into heated debates on the finer points of honor.</p><p>Isma in passing, if they chanced upon her, would tell to them of the plants that could be found in the Queen’s Gardens, asking them to be considerate to nature in its abundance. They would have asked her what she’d meant. To thank soft-spoken Hegemol when he would mind them to keep track of their condition, as he tended to his own armor.</p><p>To reply to Monomon whenever she asked them things during their routine check ups after their instars. To respond to Lurien when he spoke fondly of the City of Tears, and why he would gladly give his life for it. To tell Herrah how much they adored the Pale Gift, or even how much she would come to take after her.</p><p>To be able to comment on the Pale King and the White Lady’s courtship, and how their affection for each other caused particles of pale light to waft through the halls of the White Palace on particularly peaceful days.</p><p>They things they could have said then were long lost to time. Understandings would never be meant, nor thoughts not conveyed. They would never have those chances or opportunities again— but yet, hadn’t they gained something from standing witness to those events?</p><p>From being a part of them, though condemned to nothing?</p><p>But this time, they hoped for something different.</p><p>They still had others yet that they could respond to.</p><p>Just because they hadn’t responded in the past, didn’t mean they couldn’t do so in the present. All this time, they had been taught that, by seeing how others chose to live.</p><p>There were others who believed they had a place beside them.</p><p>Others who would wish for their return.</p><p>They—</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Do not hope. </em> </strong>
</p><p>The Pure Vessel jumped down from the air, plunging their nail into the ground— soul exploded.</p><p>Pillars of soul jut from the floor, clipping their right side, and tearing apart their cloak.</p><p>In that moment, they were thankful not to have a right arm, because it would have been skewered and ripped away from them. The pain seared, as void burbled and stained the marble floor. They lurched, as their body threatened collapse.</p><p>But to ‘not hope’, as they intoned—</p><p>They knew that to be wrong. Part of them had taken some comfort back then, in knowing that they shouldn’t hope for anything more— to be anything more— and yet, they always had been.</p><p>They might not have known it then, but they had already been filled with the Pale King’s hopes.</p><p>To themselves, they howled out in defiance. Without letting go of their nail, their Shade surged, without having their mask broken. From the stump of their right arm, a mass of void tendrils jut out violently, propelling the Pure Vessel away and slamming them into the wall of the chamber.</p><p>Now freed from the assault, the Hollow Knight went forward on the offensive, just as the Pure Vessel recovered, and lunged.</p><p>Nail met nail— and the two jumped away from each other, staring from opposing sides.</p><p>The Pure Vessel was the first to move as they leapt into the air— and preemptively, the Hollow Knight willed themselves above, and their shade answered them.</p><p>They teleported.</p><p>There was no need to be elegant about this affair. Before their other self could summon soul pillars, they outright barreled into their Pure Self. Their limbs tangled momentarily before the Pure Vessel skid away, staggered, and the Hollow Knight didn’t pursue.</p><p>They stared at each other for the briefest moment.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Do not…</em> </strong>
</p><p>Without finishing, the Pure Vessel rose to their feet.</p><p>As they assumed their stance once more, they dove forward, this time, the Hollow Knight was ready as they raised the nail to parry— swiftly striking the Pure Vessel. It wasn’t enough to deter their Pure Self, however, as they immediately released an array of soul daggers in retaliation— and they responding in kind with a whip of void tendrils.</p><p>Soul was met with Shade, and the room shook.</p><p>The two continued their fight, both sides refusing to back down.</p><p>But eventually, the Pure Vessel fell to the ground again. This time, the Hollow Knight lurched, as their body moved faster than they could think.</p><p>All the had to do was strike now, and be done with it.</p><p>Then they could proceed.</p><p>Nothing would stop them.</p><p>They would finally be free.</p><p>They darted.</p><p>They held their breath—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>But just like before, they stopped short— with their nail positioned just behind the nape of the Pure Self’s neck.</p><p>Their grip wavered, as their nail trembled in their hand.</p><p>The Pure Vessel was remained deathly still, waiting for the final strike.</p><p>They were waiting for release.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>…</em> </strong>
</p><p>They denied this.</p><p>The Pure Vessel did not raise their head, as the Hollow Knight retracted their nail.</p><p>They were determined, but they would not kill themselves for this. That would go against everything they wanted to believe in.</p><p>And so, as they stowed their nail away. If the Pure Vessel was going to kill them for it, then they would retaliate. </p><p>However, nothing of the sort happened.</p><p>The Pure Vessel stayed stationary, their body language betraying nothing of their deepest thoughts, as the Hollow Knight looked towards the Seal of Binding at the end of the room. It flickered, as they stared at it.</p><p>But, they found themselves stopping, over, when they came to the point where they stood beside themselves. They lowered their head down as their Pure Self fell within their peripheral again.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Do not go.</em> </strong>
</p><p>The thought came precisely.</p><p>It was not a statement, a question, or a request.</p><p>It was a silent plea.</p><p>Their Pure Self did not look at them, as they conveyed this notion.</p><p>They would never beg, because they were too proud for that.</p><p>The Hollow Knight looked away.</p><p>
  <em>I must.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is what we came here to do.</em>
</p><p>There was nothing left to think about— This was the only path before them.</p><p>There was nothing more to speak of— They knew better than anyone of themselves.</p><p>There was nothing more to hope for— They didn’t need others to understand this desire.</p><p>They had to go forward.</p><p>For the sake of themselves, and for those who were waiting.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>… Then.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Do not falter. </em> </strong>
</p><p>It held no tone, outside of its stern reprimand— and once more, the Hollow Knight straightened their gaze towards the Seal of Binding before them, and pressed onward.</p><p>Overthinking situations, as they so often would do when they had nothing else to do, only gave them anxiety.</p><p>They feared for the future, they feared for the worst during those days in the Palace, where the tension of the Infection suffused the halls with deafening silence.</p><p>It had been like that during the moment of their sealing.</p><p>The silence was palpable as the memory of their retreating father’s back came to them.</p><p>But this time was different.</p><p>This time, there weren’t chains to hold them back.</p><p>They wouldn’t falter, no.</p><p>Not after coming all this way.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Do not regret. </em> </strong>
</p><p>They never would.</p><p>Their loyalty was absolute, even if they would be called a fool for it.</p><p>After all, they loved their father.</p><p>Love had no explanation, even to the most undeserving. Love went beyond logic, as did kindness. Ze’mer had thought so, hadn’t she? She couldn’t have regretted her own love— not when she faithfully found her strength in it.</p><p>They didn’t think that their siblings regretted caring for them in spite of their ineptitude, either.</p><p>Though— some part of them would always hold onto that regret of their failure. No matter what anyone said. To deny it would be as crucial of denying their shade.</p><p>This was the path they wanted to take.</p><p>They already knew full well their own unreasonableness, down to the moment they convinced themselves that they could contain the Infection— contain Her— through their sheer force of will.</p><p>The thing was, that it had worked for a time.</p><p>It was still their greatest accomplishment and failure.</p><p>And whatever would come next after passing through this trial, they would go forward. Maybe in the only way they knew, but it wasn’t regrettable.</p><p>None of it was in vain.</p><p>None of it would ever be.</p><p>The Pure Vessel remained still in the face of these answers, and did not move, even as the Hollow Knight lifted their hand to undo the Seal, and began to focus. Segment by segment, the seal began to diminish, and flicker— but they weren’t enough.</p><p>It held fast, as they grasped out with their left hand, trying to undo the ancient magic.</p><p>It wasn’t enough.</p><p>In spite of everything, they still weren’t enough.</p><p>They refused it.</p><p>Not after coming all this way.</p><p>But thinking it so, maybe their other self had been so defeated, because they had longed to see what was on the other side of the seal— and long already, had they given up on that dream. If they couldn’t do it at their primed strength, at their strongest idealization of self, then wasn’t it all hopeless?</p><p>
  <em>No. </em>
</p><p>True was the notion that they weren’t the Pure Vessel any longer.</p><p>But for all they had lost, there were precious things that they had gained, innumerable beyond measure—</p><p>And it all started in that very first moment when their life began.</p><p>Tomorrow was beyond that door.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>…</em> </strong>
</p><p>After an agonizing moment of contemplation, though they couldn’t be seen, their Pure Self raised their head. They gazed upward to the light flooding the chamber, and closed their eyes.</p><p>Something happened, then, as the Pure Vessel melted away into void.</p><p>Much like when their Hollow Self vanished within them— shade and soul surged. Void and God both reconciled and returned to nothingness, as one last whisper resounded.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Do not despair. </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Never again.</em>
</p><p>The intonation was final, as their determination sang in tones of black and white.</p><p>Instinctively, they motioned and moved, and to their will, their right arm began to burble and reform from the stump, as etchings of soul dyed the end with pale light.</p><p>With hands outstretched, they began to focus.</p><p>The barrier of their soul began to form around them, contesting the Seal of Binding, which began to warp under their unified focus. Against the bursting magic, and the final thing standing in their way, they silently howled.</p><p>And delicately, something shattered— like breaking glass, or the most finest piece of porcelain— as they finally made contact.</p><p>At their touch, the Seal of Binding dispersed into particles of silk and soul, and faded out of existence.</p><p>It diminished into nothing, and with it, they claimed dominion.</p><p>The path opened before them.</p><p>They stood still for a moment, to catch their breath. As they paused to look at their right arm, already, it began disappearing in the same vein as a soul construct would— dispersing into particles, and minute light. They felt slightly disappointed, but pressed on.</p><p>Their cloak fluttered back into place, as they steeled themselves.</p><p>Their footsteps echoed in the long hall, decorated with ivy and ornate stone marquetry. From either side of them, they could see their reflections in the polished stone walking beside them, down the length of the corridor— the haggard form of the once-broken Hollow Knight, and the steadfast form of the devoted Pure Vessel.</p><p>And they, who walked alongside these two extremes. Neither, yet both.</p><p>They pressed on to the end—</p><p>And stopped, at the entrance.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>They knew this chamber well.</p><p>This memory might have been just as dearly beheld to them, and in this facsimile of the White Palace, this was the only thing that felt real.</p><p>This was what was so precious, that a Seal of Binding was used to preserve its integrity.</p><p>The Balcony was the Pale King’s hidden retreat, when he couldn’t be found toiling in the throne room or in his workshop. It looked over the courtyard from afar, and was decorated in trails of ivy and flora.</p><p>It was a place of respite for themselves, too, as they remembered all those times they had stood there, looking out, by his side.</p><p>But now?</p><p>He was standing there alone.</p><p>The Pale King preferred his privacy over the company of nobility or retainers, with the exception of the Great Knights (when they were summoned), White Lady (without question), and themselves (if they could dare to hope it).</p><p>But they could never speak it anyway.</p><p>As much as they would have wanted to express their affection and gratitude, they could only play the part of the obedient vessel that their father desperately needed.</p><p>But as they approached, they wondered if that’s what he wanted.</p><p>Perhaps he foresaw this outcome, but who could say.</p><p>They didn’t care about that.</p><p>As they stared at his form, and recognized the faint glow of his body, they took their favored spot at his side.</p><p>He didn’t turn to look at them.</p><p>They would have never thought they would be allowed this again, even if it were just a dream, as they looked out towards the limitless light by their Father’s side.</p><p>… And finally, the silence broke.</p><p>“The path here was arduous,” The Pale King spoke, weary, tired, and soft. Their father had always detested audiences where he had to raise his voice. In this place, where he was isolated and alone, he showed no sense of surprise at their homecoming. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but they were still acknowledged, as he continued. “More hidden and guarded than where the fragment of our bond was kept, and imparted to our deliverer. We were not to be found.”</p><p>There was a pause as the King seemed to think about what to say next.</p><p>They stood patiently, and waited for him to speak.</p><p>“And yet,” He continued. “You still came all this way?”</p><p>The Pale King often did things like this; asking them questions knowing full well that they could not answer.</p><p>That they would never answer.</p><p>They had been so afraid to think in his presence, at times, for the fear they would be heard.</p><p>But how they had never been found out?</p><p>They didn’t know.</p><p>Maybe he knew the entire time.</p><p>Like all other times, his question hung in the air, for a time, before he would answer it himself.</p><p>But what the Pale King was looking for was something different. It was not a matter of conquering the Path of Pain— It was also how they could have known he was here at all.</p><p>They could have said that the Ghost of Hallownest confessed to them the White Palace’s whereabouts being hidden within a dream.</p><p>They could have specified that the beacon of higher thought still existed.</p><p>They toyed with the thought that perhaps it would have continued to exist as a residual leftover of the King’s Domain, like how the Dream Realm still existed without her presence ruling over it… but that would be too convenient.</p><p>The real solution was plainly apparent, as they thought of the last thing the White Lady had imparted to them.</p><p>As such, with all of the experiences that they had gone through prior in mind, and knowing full well just exactly what their father was a God of, the one who had hidden all and everything from him stood as tall as they could.</p><p>For the first time in their life, the God of Nothingness answered the Pale King.</p><p>
  <em>You called for me. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Pale King seemed stunned, for a moment.</p><p>He nodded slightly, as he eventually found his reply in the expanse of white. He did not look at them, and continued looking outward.</p><p>They did the same, as he responded.</p><p>“… Perhaps. At this juncture, in consideration of callings and how we choose to answer them, we do not doubt the possibility.” The Pale King said softly.</p><p>His demeanor changed, they noted— or rather, he seemed very different than before? In this moment of standing by his side, he paradoxically felt close, yet still, that much faraway. As if he was still lost in some memory, even as he spoke to them.</p><p>“… However, with your assertion, I find myself awed.”</p><p>Not disappointed?</p><p>They were certain that thought went without being conveyed, but the Pale King shook his head slightly.</p><p>“… I always found myself constantly fretting on that subject; whenever you established you had the capacity to produce simple solutions, to otherwise convoluted instruction. I told myself that it was just efficiency, but perhaps it was always more.” He paused, before correcting himself. “That <em>you</em> were always more.”</p><p>But they weren’t enough.</p><p>Whether the king heard that or not, he didn’t react to it, either.</p><p>The Pale King simply looked outward into the scenery, as if seeing something that they couldn’t.</p><p>“To come all this way, however.” He whispered. “… Perhaps it was fate.”</p><p>That confused them, somewhat.</p><p>The Pale King was not a believer in such things, and was very much an entity that believed in creating his own solutions, instead of being dictating by things outside of his control. To suggest this was pre-ordained felt strange in multiple ways.</p><p>They wanted to look at him, but refrained from doing so.</p><p>In moments like these, they already knew better, to just let the other party speak.</p><p>They, themselves, didn’t mind acting as confidant. After all. Who would they tell?</p><p>Regardless, they kept silent. If nothing, they were a good listener, and at this time, it seemed that was what he needed the most.</p><p>Maybe they needed it, too.</p><p>“… Vessel.”</p><p>The use of that old title made them feel a pang of melancholy and nostalgia. In the eyes of others, it seemed that they always were addressed as something different.</p><p>The Hollow Knight to those who recognized them for their purpose.</p><p>A lone stranger, a Weaverfriend, or more teasingly, a pale prince.</p><p>Simply just a Knight, or more plainer yet someone’s sibling.</p><p>But for their Father…</p><p>…</p><p>They lowered their head, and listened.</p><p>“… I told myself that there was no cost too great for this kingdom would continue to exist eternal. That this land would remain magnificent to all who would cross into its borders— but, when I realized the future hadn’t changed, I was overcome with despair. Every immediate path led to the same outcome. Everywhere I looked, I saw eventual decay. Death. Root left the court in despair. The Dreamers, all asleep, left me with no inner circle. … I had always taken solace in solitude, but all at once, I found myself alone.”</p><p>The Pale King seemed sorrowful.</p><p>“Your sister was left in my care, and I tended to her in what ways I could. But she was despondent over the loss of her mother, and I, over Root, you, and the others condemned to this plan. I cared for her to the best of my ability, even as things declined. But one day, when I was alone in my workshop, I heard a call.”</p><p>“… Darkness crept from every crevice as I saw a sight I could have never thought would be real. Alas, I knew it full well—“</p><p>“The Void called out to me.”</p><p>Somehow, that didn’t surprise them.</p><p>The Void was such an odd, paradoxical thing, with no clear mind of its own when observed, but when given a focus, it could take shape. All of the Vessels had been living proof of that notion.</p><p>They were aware that the Void was capable of calling out to others, in some unknown, intrusive way.</p><p>Maybe it could only do that to the isolated— To those who had nothing.</p><p>But for the Void itself to have called out to the Pale King, of all entities…</p><p>…</p><p>They wondered if their father had seen the same eight eyes of the Void Entity during that visitation.</p><p>Maybe he had seen something more horrific.</p><p>Maybe the crack on his visage was because of that.  </p><p>…</p><p>The Pale King seemed to struggle for a moment, before continuing.</p><p>“I thought it would consume me, there, and then— but perhaps, that would have been the easier path.” He admittedly, somewhat ruefully. “It spoke to me.”</p><p>“It said, that as long as you, Vessel, possessed a clear focus, the seal would hold. But there would be a time in the future where the infection would grow rampant as your strength declined— and it would be then, you would call for help. With your call, the one who would come, would end the feud wrought of three Gods, once and for all.”</p><p>“My heart soared at the thought, yet the Void was explicit— that no one within Hallownest could be its savior. … Which meant what I had sown, truly had no chance of immediate reparation.”</p><p>The Pale King seemed to have trouble, momentarily, after that admittance.</p><p>“… None of us could be saved.”</p><p>The more he spoke, the less farther he seemed, from this moment. That he seemed less like a memory, or less trapped in the past.</p><p>“At first, Vessel. I wondered what to do with this knowledge. Perhaps I found despair in having my worst fears confirmed by my own antithesis. That I was being taunted with certainty. In all my experimentation, I found that Void was absence of focus, but limitless potential— and here it was, speaking to me of an absolute. I thought it came, here, to consume me— but it might have possessed me, instead. … All by giving me that single piece of truth.”</p><p>“After all. Light was focus, but ephemeral in option. Void’s power opposed my own and the Radiance’s, but it was passive in nature, unless tampered with. With that balance overthrown, it— the Void— acted in retaliation, perhaps.”</p><p>The Pale King nodded slowly to himself.</p><p>“… Yes. Perhaps, this was all retribution.”</p><p>This was the second time that the Pale King had mentioned such a thing. They knew Gods to be obsessed, but with the notion of possession already put on the table, the more the Vessel felt that it may have been true.</p><p>The Pale King was clearly haunted— and it could have been by a number of things, outside of the Void’s influence.</p><p>His guilt, his remorse, was all too apparent.</p><p>It didn’t seem as if he was fearful of what the Void would do to him, so much as he was trapped in the past— even if he was attempting to speak through it, towards the present.</p><p>Had they been like that too?</p><p>They wondered.</p><p>“… I know not of how much time has passed.” He went on. “But when you were Sealed away within the Black Egg, because Hallownest was put into stasis, I lost my foresight. All by my choice, I had performed my own undoing. No longer did I possess the potential to see further. No longer did I have the means to protect my people. The only thing I had left was your sister, and the prophecy Void imparted. How would I know when a moment would end? How painstaking it was, to govern a Kingdom I knew that I was destined to fail. That everything I did, was ultimately for nothing.” He lamented.</p><p>“With my options dwindling, listening to the Void was the only choice I had left. But where to begin? What to do? Without foresight, I deduced carefully.”</p><p>The Pale King looked outward into the light. It might have been the Vessel’s imagination, but things seemed more grey than before.</p><p>“… The stone tablets in King’s Pass, and the ones left scattered through the Kingdom as posthumous guide. The placement of the Monarch’s Wings in Ancient Basin. Instructing Root to give her half of the White Fragment to the one who would come from afar, should she encounter them. The forfeiting of the King’s Brand, and asking your sister to protect it and Hallownest, before placing her in the care of the Hive Queen— knowing that Vespa cared not for perpetuation, which would influence your sister in turn to pursue a different path, come the right catalyst. All was in preparation for the one who would come. … Perhaps all in preparation of this moment.”</p><p>“… Although.” He paused. “Both my Root and your sister misunderstood my intent to some degree, but it was imperative to be unclear. After all.” The Pale King spoke derisively. “Who would have believed me?”</p><p>They found themselves asking that same question not too long ago.</p><p>Their amusement in this odd similarity went without being conveyed, but the Pale King might have sensed it anyway.</p><p>But what did he mean that they ‘misunderstood’?</p><p>Though they looked at him and posed the silent question, the Pale King didn’t look back at them.</p><p>He answered, instead.</p><p>“Root believed our Bond was to be given to one who would become your replacement. Your sister interpreted my final request to protect you, as a warrant to slay all vessels who sought to replace you. … But surely you already know, Vessel. The one who was called to Hallownest was no usurper.”</p><p>Yes.</p><p>Their small sibling was the most implacable pillager they had seen in their life.</p><p>The Pale King continued looking outward, but they heard a wry chuckle escape him.</p><p>“I am well-aware. Last they were here, they ransacked the White Palace.”</p><p>That sounded like something they would do.</p><p>Although, if they could speak out of turn, they would have chided the Pale King to have made the White Palace more appropriate to what it was supposed to be— Elegant. Still. Serene.</p><p>The only thing he captured was lifelessness.</p><p>Why had he implemented bottomless chasms, torture devices, and tangling brambles?</p><p>“All of what you describe is an unfortunate side effect of moving the Palace into a Dream. As time passed by, the memory itself began deteriorating— and my own state of being, perhaps, may have beheld some influence.” He reasoned. “… Aside from that. Such additions were necessary.”</p><p>
  <em>For whom?</em>
</p><p>“To ensure that the one who would come from afar would have great will. To make sure that my half of the King’s Soul could only be taken by one worthy, while remaining out of Her reach. And you, who took a more perilous path to reach this place…”</p><p>The Pale King paused, in realization.</p><p>“Forgive my thoughtlessness. You must hate me for saying such a thing, after condemning you to nothing.”</p><p>They shook their head.</p><p>‘Hate’ was a strong word.</p><p>Though they would loath to admit it outright, they felt many things for the Pale King—but hatred was not one of those emotions.</p><p>“… You are much too kind to someone who was simply too weak.”</p><p>The Pale King’s admittance hung in the air.</p><p>“I sought eternity within a moment, Vessel. Predictability, to quell, and live numb peace. Perhaps I was not so different from she— in a way, is a beacon of higher thought an infection of kind, too?” The Pale King mused. His shoulders sank lower. “… Though. It ultimately matters not.”</p><p>
  <em>Why would that be?</em>
</p><p>“The time of Gods is ending in Hallownest.” The Pale King said simply. “Lady Unn has already retreated to her last sleep, and my beloved Root diminishes herself. The prior Nightmare King, however bold of him it was to encroach on this land with his ritual— already lies cremated with its success, and his ashes are gone with the wind. She is already no more— and soon, I think… it would be time to partake in last finality, myself.”</p><p>
  <em>So you mean to abandon us again, instead of atone. </em>
</p><p>The Pale King finally looked at them.</p><p>It was a gentle expression of acceptance; he looked less like the regal king they had known him to be, and more like a defeated bug in his final moments.</p><p>There was a numb aura of regret, as the finality of this moment truly began to dawn on them.</p><p>They couldn’t abide by that.</p><p>The Vessel stared back.</p><p>
  <em>Why?</em>
</p><p>The King did not answer. Deigning fit to press, they continued to share their thoughts.</p><p>
  <em>After everything you’ve done. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You abandon us again?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You would leave us?</em>
</p><p>“I must.” He answered. “That was already decided by the path your Savior chose.”</p><p>
  <em>The Ghost of Hallownest does not know you.</em>
</p><p>“They did not need to, to make their decision.”</p><p>
  <em>My sister cried for you. </em>
</p><p>That, gave the King pause.</p><p>“… I see. My assumption was that she would hate me for what I did. It would be justly warranted.”</p><p>
  <em>Would that be foresight?</em>
</p><p>“It would be more of intuition.” He murmured, without protest. “She has every right, for everything I’ve done.”</p><p>
  <em>And knowing it all, you choose not to be better?</em>
</p><p>This time, the Pale King had no retort.</p><p>He simply looked away, unmoved.</p><p>The Vessel repeated.</p><p>
  <em>You choose the stasis of a dream, over us?</em>
</p><p>“My child. I know not if I have that choice.”</p><p>The King raised his voice sharply in that moment, and his light flared. They were forced to look away from him, and bowed their head to do so.</p><p>The Vessel fell silent, until the light dimmed down.</p><p>A silence settled between both King and Knight— Between Father and Child.</p><p>“… I’ve lived a very long life, and had a life before my founding of Hallownest. Being King was no small feat, and the mistakes I made in choosing that path were atrocities I could only justify to myself as doing what I thought was right for the bugs in this kingdom. What future would need a king as good as I? What could I offer then? What could I even do for you and your siblings, that you cannot do for yourselves?” He asked genuinely.</p><p>In truth, they hadn’t thought that far ahead.</p><p>They just wanted him to accept responsibility— not just over the state of the Kingdom, and for what he had done, but for the fact that they were still alive.</p><p>They shook their head.</p><p>
  <em>Be our father.</em>
</p><p>“I have no right.” He denied.</p><p>This frustrated the Vessel greatly, and the King continued. His glow strengthened for a second, if only to attempt to placate them. It would have worked, if they were still looking at him.</p><p>“… You must understand.” He started, consolingly. “Perhaps, in the past, I was just desperate to not see everything crumble before my eyes. I held onto a dream of being King and Creator, and found that after I had attained it, I was longing for something else, that I have no right to claim. For that reason, I seek no forgiveness, my child. I need no place in tomorrow.”</p><p>
  <em>Then— why am I being allowed that grace?</em>
</p><p>The Pale King continued looking at them, and they jolted slightly, but refused to meet his gaze. They found themselves tempted to go silent, but they reminded themselves— they couldn’t falter now.</p><p>
  <em>Why am I being allowed towards that tomorrow?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was my failure that let the Infection run rampant. </em>
</p><p>They lowered their head.</p><p>
  <em>If you are guilty and have much to answer for, then I am just as deserving of both reprimand and punishment.</em>
</p><p>“And yet, could you truly say that it all was your fault?” The Pale King interrupted.</p><p>They froze.</p><p>“You did nothing wrong. At the very least in regards to your failure, as king and father, the responsibility is mine to bear. Of Hallownest’s stained legacy, your purity is unchallengeable.”</p><p>
  <em>But.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I was never pure. </em>
</p><p>They shook their head, protesting it.</p><p>
  <em>I was everything that you didn’t want. </em>
</p><p>“Certainly.” The Pale King’s admonishment was gentle, and it took them aback. “You were everything I needed and more.”</p><p>They finally couldn’t help themselves, as they turned to look at the king.</p><p>His glow was soft, yet still blinding in a certain respect.</p><p>“My regret is that I could never tell you, until now, with the end so close in sight. What a blessing it was, to see you grow up. How I failed to even keep you at a distance, because I was too weak, and too incapable, to prevent myself from getting attached. To prevent myself from adoring you, my child. My Root was more successful than I, in that regard— But alas. You burdened yourself to be what was needed by my desperation. What others sought from you. You were the sum of many wonderful things that either of us could not express, that your fallen siblings might have wished for, and that all of us couldn’t have. Your failure does not diminish you any less, though I find myself full of grief, witnessing the state of you, in your homecoming.”</p><p>So it was finally acknowledged.</p><p>Kneeling felt like the most natural reaction, as they lowered their head to him. </p><p>In response, the Pale King lifted a hand out from his tattered cape, and touched their horns.</p><p>“Your mask is cracked.”</p><p>Again?</p><p>They hadn’t noticed— and it hadn’t bothered them, like last time. Perhaps it had splintered when they undid the Seal of Binding.</p><p>But before anything could be said, the King began to focus.</p><p>The warmth of his soul suffused their mind with a comforting feeling, as they felt the crack knit together seamlessly. They closed their eyes as to not be blinded by his light, but when it was over, they found themselves being gazed at, as his hand rested on their head— as they would do for their siblings.</p><p>They had forgotten what it was like to have someone do this for them— moreover.</p><p>The King was looking at them with a myriad of emotions.</p><p>While that single act spoke volumes, when they found themselves wishing that he would say something. Anything. The Pale King was not a creature of open affection, though they knew him to be quite capable. His touch was the same, as they recalled those instances when they were still a nymph— how their Father would carry them through the halls of the White Palace, and allow them respite by his side. How in spite of all they endured, moments like these, is what made them love him.</p><p>The King lifted his hand away, with a fond, yet tired expression. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.</p><p>They only got the sense that he was smiling.</p><p>“The paths that lie before you are infinite.” He said simply. “You can be whatever you wish. That potential, though initially denied, was always yours, being of God and Void.”</p><p>They paused in realization.</p><p>They had known that part of themselves to some degree, and had become acquainted with it in time. The void sang to them, and cradled them in expansive nothingness. It watched them, and toyed with them and the Ghost of Hallownest.</p><p>But the interest and mercy the Void Entity showed in them wasn’t of malice.</p><p>The Nightmare King’s treatment of them, suddenly had a new context—and the White Lady’s apprehension towards treating them as if they weren’t hers, made more sense.</p><p>The God of Gods had always treated the Vessels as if they were its own children.</p><p>And for that alone, they were being spared.</p><p>That’s why they had been given a choice.</p><p>The realization clung to them as they stared at the Pale King.</p><p>“That’s why you are allowed a tomorrow, my child.” The Pale King confirmed. “That alone, is everything to me.”</p><p>How unfair.</p><p>They wanted to rage, and lament the thought. How only now, they could be given these hopes to carry, by one who had no hope for himself.</p><p>“… Although.”</p><p>The Pale King bowed his head slightly.</p><p>“… Only in hindsight now. Though our rule was supposed to last eternal… If there was one thing, I wish I could have changed, it was letting these halls be full of life.” He said wistfully, with a longing they had never seen him voice. “… If only I had been more thorough in giving her a proper burial. If I had given her a final death from the very start. Then none of this would have happened.”</p><p>But it did.</p><p>And to some extent, they wouldn’t say it was better that all of this had come to pass, but it was the only reality they knew. A reality where they had a sister born out of trade, and an untold number of siblings that they knew of, but would never know— except for one who embodied them all.</p><p>They didn’t know if they had the same capacity to regret that like the Pale King could.</p><p>If they did, they would have thought, that maybe it would have been better if none of them were born at all.</p><p>They lowered their head at the thought.</p><p>
  <em>… Would you regret it, to wish for none of this to come to pass?</em>
</p><p>“In a more hopeful sense. I would have likened that path where all would have gone well, and the sacrifices I imposed on others would not have been necessary; a happy dream, it would have been, but long ago it was forfeit.”</p><p>The King breathed.</p><p>“It… would have been a wonderful dream.”</p><p>The unspoken sentence hung in the air like a shroud. It broke open a floodgate of thoughts, and wistful feelings. Of forlorn hope, and yearning.</p><p>They toyed with the thought of the Palace’s rooms housing what siblings lay in the Abyss. Many siblings maybe as precocious as the Ghost of Hallownest, and maybe some with a resemblance to the White Lady.</p><p>A White Palace, that would be neither silent, nor still.</p><p>A White Palace, full of life.</p><p>… What a sorrowful thought.</p><p>“The future that the Void ordained was came true, though it took an exceedingly long time. In this place, I found myself dreaming of the one who would free Hallownest from its stasis, and destroy the Radiance once and for all— but to think that they would do so as the Void’s avatar, no less. Perhaps that was the goal of the Void all along— to give itself Focus in order to extol retribution. Between the realm of Dreams and Nightmare, there is also Nothingness, after all.”</p><p>They recalled the Nightmare King speaking of something similar.</p><p>About her overstepping—</p><p>Or more specifically, there was a glaring implication, regarding Nothingness.</p><p>Perhaps, even more specifically, <em>them?</em></p><p>They stared.</p><p>
  <em>She diminished Nothingness in her fury to not be forgotten.</em>
</p><p>“That’s correct. Supposing that, she earned the Void’s ire, to be so wholly consumed by it. Whereas I…” The Pale King trailed off. “Who can say what form of hell awaits me?”</p><p>They didn’t want that.</p><p>They shook their head at the notion.</p><p>“You are too kind, child. But I have much to answer for.” The Pale King murmured. “I know not what method was used to enter this dream, but for the last Seal of Binding to fall, would mean that my time has come. Your siblings have already made safe exit. You will be the last to leave.”</p><p>Relief, and panic, came to them all at once. They never doubted Hornet’s capability to fend for herself and even Ghost, but to have it confirmed that they were safe did wonders for their heart.</p><p>However, learning the implications of what lifting the last Seal of Binding it—</p><p>That—they were not aware of.</p><p>If so—the last Seal was the thing keeping the Dream intact.</p><p>This is what Grimmchild was alluding to.</p><p>Without that last seal, this dream it would return to nothingness.</p><p>Just like the time before, they had undertaken the role to wake the King from his final dream.</p><p>…</p><p>Did they regret it?</p><p>No— Breaking the seal was likely necessary in the grand scheme of things.</p><p>Letting him continue to exist in this state, would have been crueler— but in regard to the God of Gods, and the reoccurring topic of retribution…</p><p>This might have been why the Void Entity spared them. Beyond it thinking of them as a child of theirs, it was all so it could reach the Pale King.</p><p>Because they might have been the only one who could, through Soul, and Shade.</p><p>But—</p><p>They didn’t want this.</p><p>No matter how much he deserved it.</p><p>Like anyone else who lived through the events that had taken place, they could easily criticize him. They could admonish him, or chide him yet— but they did not have the capability to hate him. Even now, they could only wish him well, in spite of everything he had done. Even if he had performed acts beyond forgiveness, was it still wrong to want the Pale King to be their father?</p><p>Love, truly, was an incomprehensible thing.</p><p>Words escaped them, but they shook their head emphatically— Hoping it would be enough.</p><p>“You truly are too kind.”</p><p>They didn’t want to hear that.</p><p>Another silence fell between the two, as the Vessel noticed their surroundings darkening. No longer was there limitless light beyond the balcony. The chamber that they had come from had already long disappeared, and all that was left was the place they stood at together, illuminated by his presence— Being kept together, by his will.</p><p>“In the past, I once declared that Hallownest would have no heirs. Though it might have been initially due to arrogance, I was right to have the foresight to declare it. Already, I know, that the your siblings are far from this place. Already, I know, you are to join them. … What greater joy might there be? To not know what comes next, after this ending.”</p><p>It sounded as if he wanted that, more than he believed. Having lived his life seeing paths innumerable, they wondered if he truly missed his foresight. Having been shed of his ambition, maybe he just wanted to be able to live, like any other.</p><p>But he would never admit to that.</p><p>He spent an untold amount of time here, waiting, and waiting— reflecting on his choices in this purgatory that he had made for himself and others.</p><p>Everything he had done up until this point was recompense for that. Tearing off his own wings, forsaking his sovereignty so. He wondered what would be considered enough to atone. Would it be enough to allow himself to be erased from existence?</p><p>Some part of them recognized, that they wouldn’t be able to overcome this argument.</p><p>… If only Hornet were here.</p><p>… Although.</p><p>As they thought about their sister, one thing confused them. As they lowered their head, the Pale King looked to them.</p><p>“What would raise questions from you yet?”</p><p>Hornet was to protect Hallownest.</p><p>Not them.</p><p>How had he gotten the two mixed up?</p><p>As they conveyed this thought wordlessly, the Pale King froze in place. Something very different happened. As the realization dawned on him, his tenseness left him. The King’s shoulders shook with silent mirth, as he raised a hand to his mouth, and sighed.</p><p>“… Ah, I see.” He laughed. “I never explained, did I.”</p><p>The Pale King’s laugh was wispy, and echoed like xylophone chimes. There was a metallic note that almost felt ethereal, as his shoulders shook with muted joy.</p><p>“Child. Some part of me, long ago, wished for it. That if there was a name you could have been given, if you could have been granted a proper childhood.” He confessed, with self-deprecating amusement. While he laughed at himself, he wasn’t apologetic for the admittance, as he continued.</p><p>“… And yet. I could have never admitted it. … If I had, my Root would have never let me hear the end of it for wanting to name our child after our Kingdom.”</p><p>They froze.</p><p>They weren’t sure if they wanted to laugh, or cry in that moment. They did neither, as they took in the realization.</p><p>What a lamentable, clumsy, but heartfelt thing to learn at the end of it all.</p><p>They always had a name.</p><p>They <em>always</em> had a name.</p><p>The Pale King continued to gaze at them fondly as he lifted their hand, and clasped it tightly between both of his own.</p><p>How was it only now, they noticed that the darkness of the dream of closing in.</p><p>The dream was falling apart—</p><p>Or no.</p><p>The God of Gods was coming.</p><p>“… You and your siblings’ futures are your own. Should you choose to leave the Kingdom and forget the events that transpired here, that might be the kindest thing I could do for you yet. You would be able to live without the torment of your past. Only the future would await you, then.”</p><p>But they didn’t want that.</p><p>They wouldn’t want to forget any of it.</p><p>Against their better nature, they clutched his hand tightly.</p><p>“It’s time, my child.”</p><p>They refused.</p><p>He must have understood that, as he quietly laughed again. Perhaps this is why Ghost always expressed their shock whenever they laughed at the most lamentable things.</p><p>But perhaps, there was a degree of truth that they weren’t considering.</p><p>That maybe, even in a moment like this, that even the Pale King could be happy.</p><p>If only…</p><p>If only they could be just as content.</p><p>As they lowered their head again, he must have noticed.</p><p>The Pale King’s gaze softened.</p><p>“… How is it now, that time has run away from me, that memories flood me. I thought I was at peace with it all, and yet… How I think of the paths I should have taken, and what more I wish I could say.” He murmured, and shook his head. “I would think, however… if you would permit me this one act of selfishness.”</p><p>They didn't even get the chance to ask what he wanted. It had happened, just that quickly.</p><p>The Pale King pulled them close, and embraced them.<br/>
<br/>
Trembling, though they were that much bigger, they held him back. They clutched onto him tightly, as he rubbed their back consolingly.</p><p>“I am glad it was you, my child. You who have come, to comfort me in this moment. At last, I feel at peace.”</p><p>They wished they could feel the same.</p><p>“Hollow Knight, and Pure Vessel of the Pale Court.” The Pale King spoke, as the darkness closed in.</p><p>Their surroundings melted away, until all that was left was the faint glow of his pale light.</p><p>“Child, born of Root, Wyrm, and Void— God of great Shade and Soul.”</p><p>The Pale King bowed his head, and let go.</p><p>They might have felt a faint smile in his words, though they wished it wasn’t so, as they reached out for him— desperately, even though he already felt so faraway. The darkness was smothering him, consuming him, right before their eyes. Why wasn't he fighting? How could he let this happen?</p><p>If they just willed themselves forward, they could do it.</p><p>They had conquered the Abyss and both the Path of Pain—</p><p>So why—</p><p>Why—</p><p>“You are free, Hallow.” Their Father said simply, as eight eye lights opened from behind him. “You need not remember us.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And for the grand finale...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Time marched by, unfailingly.</p><p>Perhaps cruelly, perhaps kindly, but it continued without falter.</p><p>That was the ending they decided upon.</p><p>Once more, but this time alone, the Ghost of Hallownest found themselves in the Queen’s Glade. It wasn’t their preferred route to Deepnest, but it was the best Stag Station to stop at for the sake of going to the Mask Maker’s abode.</p><p>As they exited the Stag Station, they found themselves marveling at the Glade.</p><p>It had burst into blossom, again.</p><p>They thought it was a one-time occurrence, when the flowers eventually wilted away, and the greenery remained. They thought something was horribly wrong, when everything began changing color again.</p><p>Green became dyed with hues of gold and red. The change was an almost pleasant surprise, but then the foliage began wilting, and turning a sickly yellow. The biggest shock came when all the leaves began to fall, covering the stain of death, and blanketing all. They almost had thought the Infection had returned, but there was no plausible source for it.</p><p>In fact, there was no explanation whatsoever as to why everything in the Glade was dying— everything except for the brambles, at any rate. It only left them with an empty feeling, once they realized that the vines that produced the Delicate Flowers bloomed no longer.</p><p>They were initially despondent.</p><p>They were so despondent that they went to Greenpath to check if the same thing had befallen it— to see if everything was <em>dying</em>.</p><p>Needless to say, it wasn’t the same. Greenpath was flourishing, and continued to grow without restraint. It became harder to travel though, as ivy continued to claim the structures that had built during the time of Hallownest. Unn’s surviving children likened it as their small part of the world returning to nature, and they thought it would be the same for the Root’s Gardens, too.</p><p>But what was ‘nature’?</p><p>‘Nature’ was mentioned to them before, by Vespa. When they encountered her spirit in the Hive, she was the one who set them on the path to find the Queen’s Gardens. Like most others they had met, she, too, had said that perpetuation was folly—that they understood. When she said that all things had to accept an end, they thought she only had meant that of Hallownest itself— but to mean the whole of the world that they knew?</p><p>Maybe nature’s course for everything, was that all things would end someday. They had accepted that, and eventually came to terms with the fact that they would never see the flowers in the Glade again.</p><p>Yet, that hadn’t been so.</p><p>They had chanced upon this sight on their way to Deepnest, as they felt wistful enough to return through this path— to see if everything was still dead. Instead, when the colorful blooms and falling flower petals greeted them, they found themselves thinking of the White Lady— of their mother. How the last time they saw her, she sang them to sleep. It had flowered in the Queen’s Glade then, too.</p><p>An additional memory from long ago that they still thought about, was when they stood together with their sibling in front of their memorial. They hadn’t known what they were talking about; they remembered that their Sibling’s thoughts were so loud, that they might have not noticed.</p><p>But maybe this was ‘Spring’.</p><p>But surely, this is what their Sibling meant.</p><p>With a parting, came another meeting— and maybe that, was ‘Nature’.</p><p>Nature was a myriad of things. However sad it could be, the things disappeared and gave way for what would come next; what would come next, wasn’t always guaranteed to be good. And yet, of all the different individuals whose paths intersected with theirs frequently, they all believed that there was something worth in those uncertainties.</p><p>Having lived through it all, they were inclined to agree, though they hadn’t known it then; that there was even a word, for life beyond the end.</p><p>After a time of stasis and decay, ‘Spring’ would come.</p><p>With that thought, their heart felt a little lighter, as they traversed through the Glade.</p><p>Within their soul, though no one would ever hear, they hummed an age-old lullaby to themselves as they traveled on—their shadow stretching beyond just them, as flower petals carpeted the path.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“The lone stranger has not yet awoken?” The Weaver asked pleasantly, as she held the silk loop in her fingers, awaiting Hornet’s response.</p><p>“Not yet.” Hornet responded, as she delicately plucked the silk from Tassel’s claws. As a new pattern was made in the catch cradle, the Weaverlings watched from their perches, with bright, unmarred eyes.</p><p>“How sad.” The Weaver murmured, but nodded in approval towards the new design. Her dress fluttered as she sighed, but she raised her claws to continue the game with a hum. “It feels like such a long time ago since the lone stranger came. Why, the Den is so lively now. The brood truly is the most resilient of all bugs that make their dwelling here. … Wouldn’t you all agree with me?”</p><p>Asking that, Tassel looked up indicatively, as the spiderlings jolted from their position— having been caught, they all immediately scattered in different directions. In response, the Weaver laughed, as she held out her hands with the strings laced around her fingers. Hornet looked on in amusement.</p><p>“See that, Princess? With this many younglings scuttling about, if not doting over them in earnest, I find myself always teaching. Never is there time, to go see your found sibling.”</p><p>“Then why don’t you let Midwife care for the brood?” Hornet asked, pointedly. “She wouldn’t mind it.”</p><p>“She wouldn’t, would she?” Tassel practically sang, but tutted, and shook her head. “But it would still be no good, I would think.”</p><p>“And why should you feel that way, Tassel?”</p><p>“Why, I can scarce make time for them for how often you decide to drop by, unannounced. Even if I were to leave the Weaver’s Den for a moment, how sad would you be if you could not find me? Huhu.” The Weaver said teasingly. Hornet gave her a look, which only seemed to amuse the Weaver even more. “I have all the time in the world for you, dear Princess. But speaking of Midwife, have you visited her as of late? She worries over your well-being, you know. Whether you are eating well, as you fly across the whole of Hallownest, tirelessly, as you do.”</p><p>“What do you take me for? I am not nearly as busy as I was before.” Hornet said curtly. “Deepnest is strong, but I must be stronger yet. It also helps, that Ghost’s wanderlust is insatiable.”</p><p>“Is it?” The Weaver canted her head. “Despite having seen all this land has to offer?”</p><p>“They travel even still.”</p><p>“Would you think they’re searching for something, Princess?”</p><p>“I’d think not.” She shook her head. “No matter what their reasons may be, I’ve no reason not to let them do as they please.”</p><p>“In that case, do extend my regards to them. Your visits are such a wonderful occurrence, and I’m happy it would be so frequent.” Tassel said, sweetly in reply. “After all. You deciding to learn our magic of origin fills my heart with joy. As I thought, huhu— there was worth in staying in this place.”</p><p>“Which reminds me.” Hornet said smoothly, as she plucked the catch cradle from the Weaver’s hands. Independently, she began to drop and lace the loops, as she continued speaking. “… Why did you choose to stay in Deepnest, though everyone else left long ago?”</p><p>To that, the Weaver canted her head.</p><p>She offered a demure gaze to Hornet, as she lifted a claw to where her mouth would be.</p><p>“… Huhu. So you finally deign fit, to ask why I stayed?”</p><p>“Tassel.” Hornet said tersely, as she paused at her craft. “Will you answer, or not?”</p><p>She laughed again.</p><p>In turn, the Princess Protector shook her head slightly, and continued lacing strings, and and dropping her digits with the silk loop in her hands. When the Weaver’s bell-like laugh finally ceased, Hornet held up the catch cradle to her indicatively— having made a string figure the shape of a Spider’s Web.</p><p>“I am sorry to say, Princess, but that secret sleeps with the lone stranger. We may be as close as sisters, you and I, but some secrets must be preserved.” She tittered, her laugh resounding like wind chimes. “Oh, but if I may admit. It would do my heart well to see our Weaverfriend once more. The silk sings upon my loom when I think of them, and I would like to speak with them once more someday. Would you not think the same?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>She looked at Hornet’s string figure approvingly, as a smile lit her words.</p><p>“So you’re learning to be honest after all.” Tassel remarked.</p><p>“Perhaps.” She wasn’t as honest as Ghost was, comparatively speaking— but in truth, she wanted her large sibling to wake up, too. Like Tassel, she wanted have a conversation of some kind with them, all the same. She still found it too difficult to confide in others, for the fear of being judged, perhaps. Her large sibling had a certain kindness that made them easy to talk to, even with their muted reactions. But at this point, she would have liked a reaction of any kind from them.</p><p>They still slept.</p><p>Hallownest was gradually changing, she noticed. She wasn’t as resistant to that change herself, though often she wondered what to do with her newfound sense of freedom.</p><p>The paths she could take seemed limitless— she could be more than just a protector, though that seemed to be all she knew at this stage in her life. Even though she did away with the notion of ever reconciling with the Pale King, only after everything was over, she had a realization. Deep down, she might have loved him after all; to have listened, and waited, for all that time.</p><p>The only person she might be able to admit that to, was fast asleep.</p><p>Lowering her head at the thought, Hornet sighed quietly to herself, and reset the loop.</p><p>“Tassel. … If I may ask another question.”</p><p>“Yes, Princess?”</p><p>“How is it that you can still laugh?” Hornet asked. “… In spite of everything.”</p><p>“… Because I find happiness in our exchanges.” Tassel tipped her head slightly. “Would you be afraid to be happy?”</p><p>“… I’m unsure if I know what it means to be happy.” She responded quietly.</p><p>To that, the Weaver offered her a considerate expression.</p><p>After taking the silk loop and putting it aside, she took Hornet’s hands into her own, with her first set of claws. Hornet still refused to look at her, though she allowed the Weaver to perform the act.</p><p>“I don’t think it so.” Tassel murmured softly. “I do think you know, Hornet— but you find difficulty to <em>let</em> yourself be happy.”</p><p>Hornet didn’t respond to that. Perhaps she didn’t need to say that she couldn’t comprehend that. Happiness was a strange feeling that she didn’t experience, because she felt that there was barely anything to be happy for. It was foreign, much like her newfound freedom.</p><p>Understandingly, the Weaver closed her eyes, and continued.</p><p>“Don’t be afraid of letting yourself be happy. Oft times we may find ourselves trapped in a web of thinking, that misfortune would cascade, become worse, never to improve. I would say lesser bugs that choose to accept that misfortune, as happiness, are all fools. You’re not a fool by any stretch, so I think you already know— but you find yourself at a loss as to what real happiness would be.”</p><p>“Then… what <em>is</em> happiness?”</p><p>“… Happiness is a choice we make for ourselves, Hornet. It isn’t to be happy with our circumstances, but to make our own happiness, in spite of them.” The Weaver canted her head. “I’m sure Herrah thought the same, and the world of you for it. <em>You </em>are our happiness. For all that’s happened, we still have you. While your own definition of what may make you happy may differ from ours, I am sure, one day, you will be well.”</p><p>Letting go of Hornet’s hands, Tassel’s eyes crinkled in smile. She continued demurely, closing her eyes.</p><p>“Until you can find it within yourself to laugh again, Princess. I’ll laugh enough for us both.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“The other Vessel.” The Mask Maker said suddenly, as they toiled away at their never-ending task. “Does it still sleep?”</p><p>From the front of the chamber, Ghost nodded.</p><p>“I see.” The Spider said simply, as they hefted an array of stone slabs onto their workbench. Without looking at the Ghost of Hallownest, they simply began prospecting each stone slab, with a measuring tape in hand.</p><p>“It does not feel all that long ago, for when it and came to receive a new mask. During such a visitation, many other possibilities were considered. Other focuses that could have been granted in that moment, but all cast away for the sake of one.” They intoned, as they went through a process of elimination of their own. The number of stones on the table slowly dwindled, as they moved. “Not all a dissimilar process to what Wyrm did, in a way.” They muttered to themselves. Ghost only listened silently, as they watched.</p><p>“Oft are others born with faces that they would hope to hide, which is why masks exist. In stranger cases yet, others become their own masks. It is a curious case indeed for one to accept itself as wholly as it and the other has done. Has its face brought it to the answer is sought? Did it damn itself, or find redemption in existence? When it awakens, the answer will be clear. Whether it will be the same, or changed.”</p><p>Ghost simply looked on, listening to the Mask Maker’s rambles. In many ways, they also wondered what would happen when their sibling woke up.</p><p>Time was irrelevant in many ways to them. Their sibling had promised to return on their own, and they had already accepted the notion. Time did not stop for them, by comparison. What mattered was how they chose to go about their own days, instead of pining over their sleeping sibling.</p><p>That wasn’t to say that they weren’t taking good care of them— rather, they understood that their paths were working independently from one another.</p><p>Their Sibling, who was far away and dreaming, and Ghost, who found a new Hallownest to explore— A place where things weren’t exactly what they remembered, when they first came arrived to it. The dead no longer walked, and the husks, over time, would reduce to dust. Those who still were still alive, no longer walled themselves indoors—though it would be folly, to think that Hallownest was free of danger.</p><p>The same sights always held something different, as doors closed, and new paths opened to them. Between checking on the Mantis Tribe and the survivors of the Mushroom Clan, the Mantis Lords had been cordial and commended them for smiting the traitors utterly and completely (something that they had no memory of doing).</p><p>The Shrumals they encountered in the Fungal Wastes all spoke of the same thing—that their shared minds were much quieter without the incessant ‘noise’, before they demanded to be left be. They complied, knowing there was better company out there—the Nailmasters always afforded their presence, during their sporadic visits.</p><p>While wandering the Kingdom’s Edge from the Coliseum of Fools, they’d heard in passing from the Hivelings that patrolled, that a new queen was being groomed. Was that any different from what was happening with Hornet, with how often she returned to Deepnest?</p><p>On the other hand, the Resting Grounds were now truly devoid of life, in all its entirety. Nothing remained of the Tribe that traversed through dream, save for the Nail that they had been entrusted with, and the Shield they had found. Before coming here, they had made a point to ascend to the Crown of Hallownest once more, to put to rest a thing that should have never seen the light of day. Within moments, that possibility became snuffed out in the form of strewn rubble.</p><p>That was how they would honor the last member of the Moth Tribe for saving them. To keep this tragedy from ever occurring again.</p><p>But this place, lined with masks and suffused with particles of void, they supposed— would always stay the same. Maybe the only thing that would change would be the Mask Maker themselves, but who knew when that would happen.</p><p>But as for themselves…</p><p>“The other Vessel. It, who returns alone.”</p><p>On being addressed, Ghost looked attentively to the Mask Maker.</p><p>“Much like the void it embodies, though burdened with fate of king, what an oddity it is. Though its nature would be to deny time, it accepts its passage without falter. Rather than build a kingdom anew with the stake it laid claim to, it denies rule. To let natural order of all things, take its course… What a strange, new age that would be ushered in. How long would this last before gods are sought out, and new gods should encroach on this land, guarded by nothing? We shall see.”</p><p>They wouldn’t say that this land was guarded by nothing, but the Mask Maker was always strange, with his ramblings.</p><p>“In duty bound, I will bear witness to the rise, and fall, all the same. Regardless of what age it may be, focuses will always be necessary. But as I look at it now…”</p><p>Saying this, the Mask Maker stopped working, and looked to them carefully. They removed their own mask, and their void-stained eyes gazed into their very soul.</p><p>“Perhaps that it is proof it evolves further. Already, I can tell that its shade surpasses its shell— it comes once more to this chamber, seeking mine service yet again.”</p><p>Lifting a claw, they beckoned.</p><p>“A new face I will grant it. Come.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Their abode in Dirthmouth was modest.</p><p>The City of Tears had plenty of space, but both her and Ghost decided upon a locale that offered more than a cool dampness, and a potential for their sibling to be found by others. Deepnest was offered as a place of consideration to keep them well-hidden, but they also both came to a consensus, that their tall sibling needed respite away from darkness and the doting of the Devout. For a time, the three of them stayed at someone’s abandoned abode in the Resting Grounds, before eventually settling down in Dirtmouth. Elderbug was kind enough to oblige their request to check on their sibling every so often, while both siblings were away.</p><p>But seemingly, no matter how much time passed, they never woke.</p><p>Regardless of who went into their room to check on them, they remained as still as ever. Sleeping, but not dead. Not at all dissimilar to a state any of the Dreamers had been in, but unmoving.</p><p>After all, if they were truly dead, the only thing that would be left of them would have been their mask.</p><p>Neither Hornet or Ghost would stay in that place, for too long of a time. Not because they didn’t want to, but there were still things the both of them had to do. Independently, they would occasionally cross paths, and travel together back home, but such an instance was not today’s case.</p><p>“I’ve returned.” Hornet announced, as she came through the doorway. Ghost raised their head and looked to her in greeting, and Grimmchild, raised a hand to wave at her. She was going to express her annoyance one way or another, but that was swiftly disregarded.</p><p>She almost didn’t recognize her previously-small sibling. While not as tall as the Hollow Knight, and closer to her in stature, their horns had grown considerably. The difference between their prongs was much more noticeable, compared to them in their youngly state. They didn’t grow an extra prong like the Hollow Knight had, but their horns curved more. Their cloak was still long, but not long enough to cover their legs like before—and still, it retained that layered, tattered quality.</p><p>The resemblance was striking, nonetheless.</p><p>She had almost thought that their shared sibling had finally awoken.</p><p>But as she walked closer to Ghost, she squinted.</p><p>“… So you would grow taller than me, after all.” Hornet said, as she sighed to herself. She could swear, though they didn’t react to her visibly, that they were internally cheering at the admission. Grimmchild, comparatively speaking, looked incredibly amused, though they were still much smaller than either of them.</p><p>“You’re the only one who’s not grown yet.” Grimmchild commented snidely, with their scarlet eyes crinkling with a smile.</p><p>Hornet shrugged.</p><p>“I don’t need to be tall to be intimidating.” She said curtly. “And certainly, I don’t need to hear about my height, in regards to the fact you’ve still yet to outgrow traits from your larval stage, Grimm<em>child</em>.”</p><p>A smile stretched on Grimmchild’s face, as Hornet scoffed.</p><p>Ghost looked between the two of them, before seemingly sighing to themselves. Both Grimmchild and Hornet glanced to them, with the silent concession that they could continue their childish war later. She saw fit to continue where she left off, then.</p><p>“Have you been here long, Ghost?”</p><p>“They just got back.” Grimmchild answered.</p><p>“… And how would you know that?”</p><p>“I was asked to keep watch over the sleeping one, while they received a new mask.” They said plainly, before putting on a smug smile. “You may give me your admiration, now.”</p><p>“In your dreams.” She responded, before glancing back to Ghost. Grimmchild made a gagging motion, as they were unceremoniously ignored in favor for her sibling—but she raised her hand, and gave them a begrudging pat on the head without looking. Once Grimmchild was quelled, Hornet canted her head in turn. “If you were in Deepnest, you could have come to collect me, Ghost. I wouldn’t have minded meeting you there. But, I suppose, you wanted this to be a surprise, if you saw fit not to leave before my return.”</p><p>To her assertion, they plainly nodded in confirmation. They stared at her with their soulful eyes, almost expectant.</p><p>
  <strong>What would you think?</strong>
</p><p>Hornet sighed.</p><p>“Your mask suits you.”</p><p>To that, Ghost practically preened.</p><p>“It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it.” Hornet recounted. As Ghost looked at her to continue, Grimmchild went and sat down by them. “… Is that too unspecific?”</p><p>
  <strong>Yes.</strong>
</p><p>They nodded.</p><p>“I would mean since… the start of all this, I suppose.” She said, with a hint of uncertainty. “Since the time you came to Hallownest. Since the time we first met. Since the time the three of us reunited, beyond the ending that took place in the Black Egg Temple.”</p><p>She breathed, as she cast her gaze lower.</p><p>“Since all of us have been together.”</p><p>Ghost lowered their head in agreement.</p><p>“I’ve thought much since our last stint together. What happened in the Dream. How our shared sibling does not wake. I find myself wistful with how much time has passed since then— and many times, have I asked myself whether they will awaken." She paused. "… Surely, you’ve thought the same too?”</p><p>Numerous times.</p><p>Numerous times, they have been more than tempted to break into their sibling’s mind, and chase them into the Dream Realm. All those times, they’ve managed to stay their hand, out of trust.</p><p>That didn’t make it any less hard to wait—but Hornet understood that feeling well.</p><p>In the passing days, even without words, or writing, she had learnt to understand—and likewise, they had become more receptive to her. Though their paths didn’t cross often, there was always a mutual understanding that they would defend each other. Mato would think it was an honorable thing, if he knew.</p><p>“More often than not, while I think of the past, I think of the future, too. How I know not what will happen. Tassel teaches me how to weave, but not yet allows me a loom, or songs to learn. You continue to grow at an alarming pace, while I still feel the same as I’ve always been. I wonder sometimes— if I was ever truly brought out of that time of stasis, but I remind myself that that isn’t so. However unbearable everything we’ve endured was, Ghost, I think I’ve come to realize a crucial truth.”</p><p>They canted their head.</p><p>
  <strong>What is it?</strong>
</p><p>“For all we’ve gone through, we still yet live.” Hornet murmured. “And if we could survive this nightmare of our past, regardless of what lies beyond, or come what may— ... doesn’t that mean we can survive anything?”</p><p>They nodded in agreement, before the sound of something falling caught their attention.</p><p>They both turned to look at Grimmchild initially, who grinned, and wordlessly turned their attention to the doorway—and in turn, both siblings stood shock still.</p><p>The silence was deafening, yet palpable, as both Ghost and Hornet looked on. A figure leaned onto the doorway for support—all from not using their limbs in the realm of waking, for an exceedingly long time.</p><p>Slowly, and painstakingly so, they lifted their head up.</p><p>With Hornet’s assertion, they nodded and stared.</p><p>Different things went through the Siblings' minds, at this time.</p><p>For the Ghost of Hallownest, their first reaction would have been to run up to their sibling. Maybe it would have been to convey all the things that they had missed in the time they had spent sleeping. There might have been a thousand things that they could have done in that moment, and they did nothing, as the possibility of their tall sibling not recognizing them dawned on them.</p><p>So, in short: their mind went blank.</p><p>For the Daughter of Hallownest, her mind had already went blank the moment they saw them up. Like the many actions that Ghost wanted to take, there could have been a million things she could have said in that moment. <em>‘You awaken’</em>, or <em>‘Welcome home’</em>. <em>‘Look who decided to finally wake’</em>, and so forth. Consideration was not her strong suit, though she had learnt to be gentler with time.</p><p>So, between all living creatures present, Hornet moved first.</p><p>She said nothing, and regardless of her short stature, she went to help them stand. Swiftly, Ghost also followed suit, as their tall Sibling slowly eased their weight. As if relaxing from their presence.</p><p>“Knight. You shouldn’t attempt to move around so much, when you’ve not been active for some time.” Hornet murmured, already fussing. They glanced down to her, and said nothing, as expected. But their actions spoke volumes, as they normally did.</p><p>To Ghost, however, once they finally found their words, they found themselves agreeing with Hornet. As they looked up to their tall sibling, with the hope they were already recognized, they silently agreed.</p><p>
  <strong>Sister is right, Sibling. You shouldn’t strain yourself.</strong>
</p><p>They raised their head again.</p><p>Ghost felt somewhat self-conscious. Normally, they would have gotten a response of some kind from their sibling. Through words, through feelings, and voiceless exchange— the Void Heart was an open channel for them both to use, and they waited for something. Anything.</p><p>But their Sibling didn’t respond.</p><p>Unsteadily, they managed to hold themselves up, and staggered away from both Hornet and Ghost. They seemed to be looking for something in the abode, which gave both smaller siblings pause. Were they looking for their nail? Their nail was hanging on the wall.</p><p>... It was thusly ignored.</p><p>They leaned on a table for support—apparently taking pause to catch their breath, it seemed.</p><p>What was going on?</p><p>Both Hornet and Ghost looked at each other, as their sibling continued to shamble around their home, in seeming search for something. As their eyes met Grimmchild’s visage, they gave pause and a small nod, before resuming their single-minded objective.</p><p>And then, they stopped at Hornet’s workbench.</p><p>At that point, she broke out of her stupor, as her large sibling loomed over the table, touching her things. Her dress fluttered with every step, as she paced over to them with a concerned expression—with Ghost following close behind, as they fought a strange sensation of dread.</p><p>“Knight?”</p><p>
  <strong>Sibling?</strong>
</p><p>Abruptly, they turned.</p><p>As both siblings approached, they knelt down to receive them, with a scrap of parchment in hand. The writing was even worse than Ghost’s, but the message was written clearly, for both of them to read.</p><p>Now satisfied, they waited with bated breath, as Ghost properly recognized that the floodgate had been broken with this single act alone.</p><p>A tidal wave of emotions hit them in full force, as they stared at the parchment, with complete and utter disbelief. There was much that they felt that they wanted to convey, but for once, they were at a complete loss for words as the myriad of their sibling’s emotions took them by complete storm. What could they do? What could they say?</p><p>Before they could think of any solution, Hornet, who was faster than them, and always would be, barked out a laugh.</p><p>Her shoulders shook tumultuously, as she laughed, and laughed, to the point of tears.</p><p>Their large sibling similarly closed their eyes in smile, trembling slightly, as they too, found mirth in her reaction—and they stared, before lowering their head, and joining in. Without words, the Ghost of Hallownest fell back to their first impulse, and hugged their sibling tightly. As they did, the paper was discarded, as both siblings were swept up into an embrace.</p><p>Grimmchild, who looked on with amusement, hummed from where they sat, observing it all. Such was the role they had been given, but it wasn’t by any means dull, or boring. As the discarded paper fluttered to them, they took it silently.</p><p>A small smile crept on their features; through their scarlet eyes, they read a single sentence silently to the Heart.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>[My name is Hallow.]</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wonder what there is to say, at the end of all this. </p><p>It's been roughly 40 days since I started this endeavor, this mad possession of trying to write a story about a game I only recently found. When I first had the idea to write this story, the first chapter was titled "Shitposter of Shitposters". Can you believe that?</p><p>As time rolled by, I had the idea to deliberately model our Protagonist's story after the Hero's Journey, as told by the 22 Major Arcana. Where we start with a Fool (represented by Nothing, or 0), and end with the Fool, starting anew. </p><p>This was ultimately meant to be a lighthearted story, focused on moving forward, and making the active choice to be the person that you want to be. A story where others could learn how to laugh and live again, however long it would take. I hope you all had as wonderful as a time as I did, watching them grow up like this. I hope I was able to move you all in some way. If I did, I'd love to hear your thoughts.</p><p>But all in all, thank you so much for reading until the end. Until next time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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